#purely language wise of course of course...

[iamred-iamyellow]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Bad Blood

♥ masterlist | request rules | based on this request

♥ pairing: franco colapinto x fem!driver!reader

♥ synopsis: tensions started rising in the williams garage when bad strategies pitted you and your teammate, franco against each other. after spotting him in a bar the night of a race the two of you bonded over your shared bad result. 

♥ one-shot - wc: 1.6k

♥ as always none of the pictures are mine <3

♥ warnings: swearing, drinking, and vaguely suggestive !!!

♥ a/n: rivals to lovers + forced proximity, go nuts babe. btw there’s some salty team vibes so i just wanna say i love williams (except james) this is purely for the plot lol

“Plan B, Y/n. Plan B,” you engineer said on the radio of your car.

”Is Franco undercutting me?” you asked, shifting down into a corner.

“We think this is the best decision point-wise.”

“You’re joking.”

“Y/n stick to the strategy, you’ll get your time eventually.” they responded.

“No this is bullshit. What advantage are you giving him? He can’t chase down Kmag any better than I can—at least he doesn’t have the pace right now. I don’t see why you’re making him the priority.”

You reached the end of the main straight watching as your teammate exited the pit lane in front of you.

He was on hard tires, an extremely odd choice for the end of this race. You were trying to complete the last 20 laps on softs while your teammate tried to make up positions on the opposite compound. Wait why the fuck would they put him on those tires? If they were aiming for an undercut, they were certainly going to fail with this strategy. 

You dove down into the apex and collided with Franco, who was turning in front of you. You both spun out into the gravel, ending your race. 

It was always like this. Somehow you always found yourself competing against Franco no matter where you went. 

“Fuck,” you yelled on the radio as you threw your HANS device outside of the car. 

“Are you okay?” your engineer questioned.

“Yup, yeah I’m fine.” you responded. 

The Williams team could hear faint breathing from Franco. 

“Is she ok?” he asked. 

“Yes, are you?”

“Yeah, I am.”

-

You scrolled through your phone in your driver's room, coming across a couple of posts about the situation.

@fcswife “is she okay?” FRANCO THE MAN THAT YOU ARE 😭❤️

@charlesgf16 she really has zero respect for franco huh?

@francodefender1 how could anyone hate him? 😩

You rolled your eyes and clicked off the device, throwing it onto a different cushion on the couch. You were going to need a drink. 

-

Later that night you retreated to a bar you were unfamiliar with. A couple of F2 drivers in your circle mentioned it in passing and considering you couldn't fluently speak the language of the country you were visiting, you hoped to run into a few people you knew.

The room was dark, loud, and packed. You could hear music playing over the sound of dozens of drunk voices. You pushed your way through the crowd of people towards the front of the bar in order to get a drink.

You spotted a familiar face when you arrived. To your dismay it was the only person you wished not to talk to at that moment. His brown curls were immediately identifiable and if that wasn't enough, the fluorescent lighting illuminated his face, drawing your eyes towards the small mole on his cheek.

You looked around for a place to avoid him, but all the booths were taken and the only open bar stool was the one next to Franco.

Because of course it was.

You sighed and took the seat next to him, trying your hardest to avoid eye contact.

"A bottle of Dom Perignon please," you asked, causing Franco to snort.

“What?” you shifted your gaze towards him.

“Champagne is for winners,” he said, looking you straight in the eye.

It wasn’t like he was incorrect. Champagne was for the podium—but you had a long day and it was time to treat yourself. Regardless, you rolled your eyes at the man’s comment.

Franco waved over the bartender to get a glass and help himself to the bottle of alcohol.

“You can venmo me,” you said only half joking as he poured himself some champagne.

A small tv in the corner of the bar had a replay of the race and press.

”There were a lot of emotions definitely, uhm I think the decisions tire wise for the strategy weren’t great. It’s frustrating to see the prioritization of your teammate but I guess I have no input on whether that goes to me or Franco each race. We had a rough week overall as a team but I hope we can bounce back.”

“As much as I hate to agree with you… you were right. Both our strategies were fucked.” he said referencing your post race interview, “They screwed us both.”

The two of you never really got along, but at least neither blamed each other for the crash. It was just a racing incident and it didn’t have to prevent you from finally having a civil conversation with Franco.

“To screwing us both,” you smiled while raising your glass of champagne, eliciting a chuckle out of him.  

He clinked his cup to yours with a smirk and took a small sip. 

From that point on your distaste for him slowly started to die down and you began to have a mutual understanding.

-

The next race went over far smoother than the last. Franco ended up in P5 with you right behind him in P6; an incredible result for the two of you and the team.

You jumped out of your car and strolled your way over to his. The camera picked up on you patting his helmet and mumbling something.

Of course this was going to be all your media feed would show for the next few days.

-

That night you found yourself at a far more tame pub than the last.

“From the gentleman across the bar,” a server said, causing you to look up from your phone and towards the direction he was pointing. 

Franco was leaning against the counter with a grin. He raised his eyebrows quickly and waved.

You took a sip of the cold blue drink in front of you and waved back. His eyes stayed locked on you as you pulled out your phone and unblocked a number.

You 

is there red bull in this? 

+1800******

yea 

You got a text back immediately, prompting you to change the contact name. 

You

i think that’s a sin

Franco

oh?

You

yea if i can’t drive it i shouldn’t be drinking it  

Franco

i guess it’s too bad williams doesn’t make energy drinks

You

come sit with me

-

Tensions were still high on track between the two of you but the minute race weekend was over it was like someone flipped a switch.

A few weeks flew by and people started to notice your behavior towards Franco. By now there were probably dozens of pictures of you looking very cozy together at parties, but not getting along at the circuits or simply ignoring each other in the paddock.

Of course people were getting suspicious. Maybe this was a ruse to keep your relationship a secret? Maybe it was all staged for Netflix. Or maybe—you two didn’t really know what you were.

-

“Che,” a voice called out to you in spanish, instantly grabbing your attention.

You spotted Franco in a booth at the back of the club. It was far darker in that corner, but with the flashing lights and loud music you were glad he picked a more secluded area.

The building was full with the familiar faces of drivers and team members.

”Look at you,” he said, impressed.

You laughed and did a small spin, showing off your dress. You knew he’d liked it and by the memory you had earlier this evening, it seemed as though a lot of people would.

”Another date with Franco, huh?” Kika smirked while putting on some dangly earrings. “It’s not a date,” you protested. She spun her body around to face you. “This,” she gestured to your outfit. “Is for a date.”

You slid into the booth next to him, setting your black clutch purse beside you.

Franco’s hand firmly grabbed your thigh to steady himself as he shifted closer towards you. Your eyes darted down to the action but he didn’t seem to notice. His grip loosened as he settled and he started rubbing small circles with the pad of his thumb.

A small hum escaped your lips, barely audible over the music and voices, but there was no way in hell your soft noises wouldn’t catch his attention.

”¿Esto está bien?” (is this ok?) he asked in a whisper, causing you to only nod.

His face moved closer to yours, and you wasted no time cupping his cheeks in your hands, and connecting your lips.

You melted into the kiss knowing damn well you daydreamed about this an embarrassing amount.

His tongue swiped over your bottom lip, tasting the gloss you applied earlier. You opened your mouth to allow him entrance and he dragged his fingertips further up the inside of your thigh.

Franco moved down to your neck leaving soft, open-mouthed kisses. His index and middle fingers brushed the lace of your lingerie, causing him to smirk against you.

“Stand up,” he demanded. He slipped out of the booth and pulled you onto your feet. You grabbed your clutch as he guided you through the crowd, hand-in-hand.

He opened the chiming door and the two of you stepped onto the wet cobblestone. Your heels clicked on the ground as he guided you to his car in the rain.

He pulled open the passenger seat door for you.

“Wow, we weren’t even in there a couple of minutes,” you stated.

“I think we’ve had enough time to talk… quiero llevarte a casa…” (i want to take you home) he leaned down and mumbled to you.

“O en este caso mi hotel,” (or in this case my hotel) “unless you’d rather go back inside..” he trailed off.

You shook your head in protest to his last works and a light chuckle slipped through his lips.

”Alright then,” he smirked, getting into the drivers seat.

[tired-all-the-time22]

can you give us you DASH BAXTER headcanons?!?!?!!?!??!?!?!?! (i love your art sm)

Absolutely!!! I also took so long to answer this but I'm finally compiling a doc of my Danny Phantom headcanons so here are some of my Dash ones!!

Pasting from docs so sorry if it's a bit unreadable/wonky formatting-wise

- His dad is in the GIW

I saw a GIW throwaway character in some later episode of DP that looked kind of a little bit like Dash and thought. Yeah I think that would be funny

Dash is only vaguely aware of this. Like he knows his dad is a part of the military somewhere but like. He’s not super sure what actual part (I chalk this up to government secrecy)

- Par for the course but it has to be said. MASSIVEEE romance nerd. 

This is hinted at in canon but I believe it runs deeper. he has dvds. he has posters. he knows the lines by heart the way this boy has rewatched his favorites. he would make playlists

- Leads me to my next headcanon: He is definitely a romantic. flowers, cards, chocolates. the whole nine yards (or really the whole field) for whoever he’s dating. 

Love language? no, you’re mistaken. This boy has love languages. like. all of them. simultaneously, even

no one who dates him really expects it since he’s Like That (an asshole) but he completely switches up whenever he’s addressing them. To outside observers the dissonance is borderline unnerving

Extending this to TeddyGhost/Swagger Bishie headcanons: Pre-reveal he’s getting gifts for phantom. Post-reveal (and post-character development) he’s ramping it up to 1000% out of guilt. 

Danny would get uncomfortable and tell him to tone it down, it would likely lead to their first big relationship issue/fight they have post-reveal. Leads to a week or two apart before both of them cave simultaneously and have an actual discussion before getting back together.

- Leads me again to the next headcanon: Autistic Dash

no canon evidence. just pure vibes and because I Like It (and am maybe a little bit projecting a teensy little bit. just a little).

Romance movie special interest (of course)

Massive plushie collection. He names all of them and actually feels really bad about keeping them in his closet. Feels like he’s shunning them and he feels like it makes them feel sad/lonely

Extremely uncomfortable with sudden change and will panic hard about it. Does not like feeling like he’s out of control (See: S2E11 Micro-Management) and will quickly shut down if not comforted/reassured about it

Masks by copying other A-Listers and also from observing ‘popular’ characters in his favorite romance movies. Can often be found hanging around other A-listers for this reason, even if he’s not particularly friends with them. 

Prefers to hang around Paulina and Kwan due to the added bonus of genuinely being friends with them. Good to mirror and also good friends! Win-win!

Pressure/impact stims (See: engaging in a lot of high-contact sports (ie. football), and also (again) in Micro Management when Danny snaps him out of panicking via grabbing him)

This also extends to beating up nerds, but that’s purely coincidental. The nerd bullying is a reward of its own of course

Side note: I feel I should clarify these headcanons are not meant to absolve him of responsibility for being a jerk/bully. Autistic people can be assholes & bullies too (Diversity win! /j)

[lackinggravitas]

sup gamers. here's a wee 2k fic based off of @babyblankyerror's au idea of stan being raised by wolves... i like the idea and the topic of children being raised by animals is interesting to me so here! a little drabble of long lost brothers meeting.... and not recognizing each other :-) (i changed the animal to coyotes tho. just cause i like those more)

ill prolly write more to this some time, but here's some feral stan and dense ford for now

part 1(you are here!) / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6

ao3 vers

The lumberfolk told many stories. 

Ford did his best to record and research those that pertained to his work - the tales of mystery and magic, cryptids and creatures. Many of it was simply local legend, tall tales and the like - but just as often there was some piece of truth to be found within the campfire stories. It was the lumberfolk that told him of the hide-behind and the plaidypus, after all. If nothing else, stories made for a great lead.

One of those many stories was that of the Gravity Falls Coyote-Man. 

Legend told of a wildman, half-coyote and half-human, running on all fours and covered in hair, seen with the coyotes. Dark shapes darting between the trees, snapping up stray animals. It seemed somehow both too fantastical and also too banal for Gravity Falls - it was almost too simple a legend, not Weird enough. It was just... a man who was ambiguously connected to the local coyote population.

But there were a few lumberfolk who swore up and down to the beastman’s existence, claimed to have seen it themselves, even. And, well, Ford was having a slow week, research-wise. Why not set up a few human-sized coyote traps?

Well, he hadn’t actually really expected to catch it. 

The snare, a thin silver wire staked into the ground, was taut and strained, vice-like around a bruised neck. The creature growled, snapping its teeth at Ford, trying to swipe with long, claw-like nails at him. They cut through the air inches away from Ford’s trench coat, a narrow breaths away from connecting. 

“Fascinating,” Ford murmured, quickly scribbling away in his journal, trying to get a good sketch down of the beast. “I hadn’t actually thought you were real.”

A dirt-streaked, humanoid body, bones visible through skin, unkempt and overgrown brown hair. The hair was too matted and tangled to make out any texture, whether it was straight or curly. It was practically a forest itself, leaves and pine needles in its hair. The creature’s eyes were wide, almost eerily human, yet held the vacantness of an animal.

“Such an interesting specimen,” Ford hummed, walking a careful, examining circle around it. The beastman twisted in its trap, trying in vain to track Ford’s movement with its eyes. “To think I had almost written you off entirely. Part of me wants to take you back with me, to further study you.” 

The beastman snarled, barking at him. It struggled against its binds, trying to lunge at Ford. He sighed. 

“Of course I couldn’t,” Ford said, resigned and disappointed, “It would be wrong to keep a creature of the woods such as yourself trapped. For all I know, you’re some fae’s pet. I certainly don’t want to get caught up in that again.” 

The creature, not understanding the words being said, hunched against the ground warily. Protecting its soft spots, one would have to assume. It had evidently realized it would not be able to get Ford from where it was, instead hunkering down, growling low and warningly. A purely defensive position.

“I assure you I am not here to take advantage of your weakness,” Ford told it. He jotted down a few more quick notes. Humanoid. Not capable of speech or comprehending language - could it be taught? “I just want to study you. You’re awfully elusive, you know. Even the lumberjacks have only caught a few glimpses.”

The creature kept low to the ground, growling softly. It followed Ford with its eyes as he stopped in front of it. Ford dropped into a crouch. 

Lifting its head, the creature narrowed its eyes at him. Ford smiled wryly. “You look hungry.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small piece of beef jerky. The beastman’s eyes softened a bit, still suspicious, but intrigued also. It looked between Ford and the jerky, interest clearly piqued. “Here.”

Ford tossed the jerky lightly, throwing it softly in front of the beastman. The creature leaned down, sniffing cautiously, before, with one more glance at Ford, quickly snapping it up with its teeth and scarfing it down. 

Smiling a bit at the sight, Ford shook his head to himself, quickly scribbling down a few more notes. This would make a good entry, he thought to himself, pleased. 

The jerky went quickly. The creature blinked at Ford curiously, licking its lips as it finished the last bit of the food. It had stopped growling now, sitting back on its haunches and tilting its head at Ford, eyes alight and watchful with clear curiosity. 

“You certainly seem at least a bit intelligent,” Ford mused as the creature leaned forward, not far enough to strain the snare, but close enough to get a good view of Ford. It didn’t seem defensive now. Just intrigued. “Maybe if I had the time, I might be able to teach you a few words.”

He pulled another piece of jerky out of his pocket. He didn’t toss it this time, slowly reaching forward to put it in front of the creature. Something of a test.

It leaned back as he leaned forward, shuffling awkwardly away from him. It didn’t start growling again, nor did it bite him, but it squared its shoulders and watched him warily until he pulled back, returning to his spot just out of the creature’s reach. 

A bit more trusting now, the creature snapped up the piece of jerky again, using its mouth to grab it. 

“It’s odd,” Ford mused to himself, writing in his journal, “You have human hands that are, by the looks of them, perfectly fine and functional, yet you barely seem to use them. It’s as though you don’t realize they’re there.” 

The creature doesn’t respond, of course. It ate its jerky quickly, chewing openly like a dog. Its teeth were clearly human as well - really, the creature was hardly dog-like at all in physical form, only in behaviour and mannerisms. Though, it was quite hairy. 

A completely human body, two arms and two legs, seemingly bipedal but favoring to walk on all fours like a dog. Hairy, yes, but humanly so. Its ears weren’t even pointed, which would have pointed towards some mystical, perhaps fae, relation. If it were human, it would have to be just a year or two younger than Ford himself, if not the same age. Its ribs were showing, face gaunt. 

Yet beyond a few bruises and small scars, it didn’t seem horribly beat-up. It was ill-fed, not ill-protected. 

“You’re an odd one, that’s for sure,” Ford said. “You’re almost too mundane for a creature of Gravity Falls. Perhaps your strangeness is more subtle than most other anomalies.” He sighed. “What I wouldn’t give for the opportunity to study you more.” 

The creature looked up at him, tilting its head. Its eyes were wide and brown. Something about so oddly familiar that Ford had to look away, to save himself from the sudden sting in his heart. 

Those eyes seemed so distant, yet oddly aware. They were calm now, not clouded by pain or anger. Just calm.

He carefully reached his hand out, not holding any jerky this time. The creature held very still as Ford’s hand drew closer, until his fingers gently entwined in its hair, stroking his thumb across its forehead and idly fiddling with its hair in a tentative pet. The creature slumped slightly, leaning into the touch contentedly. 

“The lumberjacks mentioned they usually see you with the coyotes in the forest,” Ford said absentmindedly, distracted by how thickly knotted the creature’s hair was. It was stuck full of burrs, sticks and leaves and other things. “Do you ever get lonely out there, I wonder? You’re not exactly one of the coyotes - unless they’re a pack of creatures able to shapeshift between human and coyote forms, but I’ve not seen any evidence of such a thing. Just you, hm?”

Ford sighed, thumb running soothingly up and down at the smooth plane of forehead, rhythm irregular with his fingers fiddling with the creature’s hair. 

“I can understand that feeling,” he said quietly. 

The creature blinked at him, brown eyes warm. It watched Ford with an easy peace - it had firmly decided he wasn’t a threat, it seemed. 

They were of the same ilk, after all. Two pariahs, finding solace in the woods. 

Ford’s eyes drifted downwards, to where the snare was a thin, silver line standing out against skin mottled with bruises where the creature had struggled against its binds. There were small traces of blood, Ford could see now that he was close enough, where the metal had bit and dug into the creature’s skin as it strained. 

Ford bit the inside of his cheek. In retrospect, perhaps a cage trap would have been more humane. 

“Alright,” he sighed, already mentally preparing himself for the incoming ordeal, detangling his hand from the creature’s hair and reaching for the snare, “Let’s get this over with.”

A wild animal, or in this case, wild animal-like creature, couldn’t be expected to understand the nuanced difference between trying to help, and intentionally hurting. Ford knew this. A cat with its paw stuck in something would not understand that the person trying to free it did not mean to hurt it, or that the pain was unfortunate and unintentional. It only felt the hurt, and reacted. It was an animal, and that was the way animals thought and behaved.

For this reason, Ford knew that freeing the creature from the snare would likely break this odd truce-bond of theirs. It had to be done, Ford thought heavily. A cage trap would indeed have been wiser.

But as his fingers fit around the wire, fidgeting with the latch, the creature only tensed as the wire moved on its neck. It didn’t even growl, just making a quiet, unhappy sound, almost like a whine. It blinked at Ford, eyes pitiful and pained but somehow not defensive at all. Like it knew Ford wasn’t trying to hurt it.

Intelligence, or strong pack-bonding? Ford wondered. Or perhaps it simply doesn’t feel pain the same way…

Carefully, Ford slipped the snare back over the creature’s head, then rose, taking a few cautious steps back. The creature merely stared up at him, alert and calm. It slowly moved, testing its now free range. Its hand came up to its neck, pawing at the air cautiously.

It twisted its neck this way and that, as though to loosen stiff muscles. Its gaze flit down to the snare, now inactive and unsprung.

With a soft growl towards the trap, it prodded on all fours around the snare, coming to stop in front of Ford. It blinked up at him, like it was waiting for him to move first.

Ford gave a small smile. “I suppose you have a pack to get back to, hm? I won’t keep you.” He stepped back, slipping his journal into the inside pocket of his coat. “Farewell, fearsome Coyote-Man of Gravity Falls.”

Putting a few more steps of distance between them, Ford turned his back to the creature. He sighed, shook himself, and began to walk back to his lab.

But not a minute into the trek, there was a rustle behind him. Ford turned, and was surprised to meet the warm brown eyes of the creature, walking - crawling, really - behind him.

Experimentally, Ford briskly walked further. The creature followed.

Ford stopped in his tracks, and it stopped too, blinking up at him curiously, as though wondering what made him stop. 

Slowly, a genuine smile hesitantly spread across Ford’s face. “Are you following me?”

The creature of course gave no indication of understanding, but it did shift closer to him, leaning casually against Ford’s leg and looking around. Like a cautious dog.

Ford chuckled softly, reaching down to pet the creature’s hair fondly. “A wise choice. I have some salve for your neck, and some more food for you, if you’d like it.”

Ford didn’t often have guests over, but somehow, this didn’t feel so daunting. The creature chuffed softly at him, butting its head into Ford’s leg in a friendly manner.

“Who knows,” Ford said, running his fingers through the creature’s matted hair, “Maybe I’ll be able to learn more about you still, hm?”

The warm presence at Ford’s side already felt like it had been there the whole time. Like a missing piece slotting seamlessly back into the incomplete jigsaw of Ford’s heart.

Despite his better intelligence, he knew he was growing attached to this odd creature. It filled a cold, long-frozen part of him, called the phantom ache like that of a missing limb. He knew why.

Its eyes were just like his.

Bittersweet warmth filled him and he couldn’t help but murmur, just between the two of them, “Stanley would have loved you.”

[seaswallovvme]

You are the one I’d come looking for. Over and over and over again

A/N: I am SO sorry for this but I can’t believe I’ve never seen a fanfic like this so I took it upon myself to write it. No beta reading or editing. We die like..nevermind

TW: angst, hurt and comfort, leprosy? No one is dying!!

People had thought her foolish for longer than she could think.

A pretty, young maiden from a good house, wealthy parents with political influence others could only dream of and yet she had chosen to marry a leper.

The king of Jerusalem was well known around nobility for more than just that of course, having won the battle of Montgisard against the Arabs at such young age seemed like a miracle from God above.

Even before that she had been by his side and it was not the fortunes, glory or status that had interested her which would no doubt be beneficial side effects of being married to him.

No young woman in her right mind would have willingly accepted the hand of a man doomed and she could hardly blame them.

Her parents had approved of the marriage as their hands were bound, depending on trade offers and the generosity of the holy land for their own existence.

Even then, when the letter from the court of Jerusalem had arrived they had been worried about the future of their darling girl.

Everyone had been, even nobility from far away and the news of King Baldwins marriage had spread quickly and then the whispering began.

She had never been bothered by the likes of them, faithful to her new husband who treated her with utmost care, she had everything she could have ever asked for and more.

He was a good man, gentle and wise for his age and he was grateful she had accepted his hand in marriage, he would have been a fool to not treat her well.

To him it was more than a political match propagating his strength to the outside kingdoms and his own.

To him this young woman was home, acceptance and love.

Despite all this their marriage was a slightly unusual one.

They had never been able to kiss nor were they able to consummate the marriage in a way deemed proper, the king refusing to risk contagion and his physicians agreed with him.

Despite all this she had never minded the lack of physicality in their marriage all that much.

She cared about him in a way that was beyond desires of the flesh, what they shared came close to holiness.

They talked a lot, shared poems and stories when she would caress his bandaged hands.

She would spend the late evenings in their shared chambers, after a tremendous amount of convincing, finally applying ointments to his sore, blistered skin to help it slow the spreading.

She would caress his bare back with fingers gentle as if she feared he would disappear into thin air, like a vision or a daydream, is she dared touching him too firmly.

In their eyes those sacred moments were almost enough but of course even the fate of the most pure could be harsh more often than not.

It started with a pale rash on her side, right over her ribs.

At first she had been sure it had come from spending too much time in the stables, perhaps she had been bitten by an insect.

Then one night when she had just finished brushing her hair before going to bed she noticed the tingling numbness in her fingers and feet.

It started slowly, like tiny ants crawling over her skin, not painful but the recognition was and she could feel her heart drop.

Though it wasn’t herself she feared for.

Baldwin let his best physicians be called to their shared chambers immediately.

After the three men had taken a look at her, whispering in a foreign language with their eyes drooped with worry and told them how deeply sorry they were the young king wished for his instant death.

He had always had a hard time being kind to himself, never to others but the wave of agony that rolled over him threatened to swallow him whole, burning like a demonic fury.

Her own eyes brimmed with tears and she sat up after the physicians had left, so frightened for her husband who was now sitting on the edge of the bed, his masked face buried in his hands with his shoulders trembling.

There was no use denying that she had caught the disease.

It was only a matter of time, she is playing with fire, others had whispered behind her back when they thought she wasn’t listening.

“Baldwin..” crawling up on the bed right behind him she wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

The gesture that had comforted him even in his worst moments now seemed to shatter his heart even more so.

“I have been so foolish..my beautiful, beautiful angel” he whispered, his voice dying in his throat and when he raised his head his eyes were flooded with tears.

He was trembling as he spoke and she was frightened as he nearly seemed mad with grief.

“You should have never come here..I should have never asked anyone, you, to put themselves in danger for my foolishness. If the Lord wants to punish me so be it but why would he wish to punish you of all people? When it was I who was selfish?”

She only noticed that she too was crying when she tasted the salt on her lips, wiping it with shaking fingers.

“Do not say such things..you are not selfish, nor foolish. It was I who made the decision to accept the offer to marry you with the pain and dangers that I was warned of. And I swear to you that even now I do not regret our vows, a single day or night we spent together”

Reaching out for him he cupped his cheek, a pained smile gracing her features in the soft candle light of his chambers.

“Please do not blame yourself my love. I am not scared of my fate but I am scared of losing you, whether it be to grief or shame. I beg of you, don’t leave me now”

There had never been a moment where Baldwin had to fight against contempt for himself as in this very moment.

He disdained himself for causing her to share his fate when he should have been the one to be level headed, keeping a distance for her own safety when in reality he was the one searching for her warmth like a frightened little boy.

Now there was no use avoiding her, he recognised with bitterness seeping like pus from an open wound.

Now it was too late, the die had been cast but all words of comfort, an apology he could have offered her seemed to be worthless now and he knew this sweet, innocent girl would not hear it.

How wonderfully stubborn she could be sometimes, with too much love to give and headstrong to a point where it was almost unbecoming for a woman but he wouldn’t have it any differently.

“Come now” she murmured, shuffling on the bed to slip underneath the covers.

The silken sheets were cool against her skin and a part of her wondered for how long she would be able to feel them at all.

She pulled him in as she did every night since they had exchanged their vows, his head resting against her shoulder and she caressed his soft hair soothingly.

“The promise of God is not that He will never give us more weight than we want to carry. The promise of God is that He will never put more on us than we can bear.”

Her voice was so soft as she spoke, without a tremor and she was not scared anymore.

Not for herself nor for him, not when God was watching over them, not when her love for him burned stronger than ever and she could feel his heart beating, so alive and warm in his chest.

“Let us not waste the precious time we have..not a second”

This was something the young king could not disagree with and how eager he was for her comfort if that meant to comfort her.

Now he had to be strong for her sake when she needed him now more than ever before, and she was right.

The promise of God is that He will never put more on us than we can bear, no matter how heavy the burden can be in the darkest times.

He shuddered when he felt her gentle fingers sliding the silver mask off his face as she had done many times before but something about it now felt different.

His eyes were wide, still glossy and red, his face scarred severely but she could only see the man she loved more than anyone or anything.

They looked at each other for what felt like hours, the fingers of one hand entwined, the other on each others cheek, stroking over skin, gently brushing a strand of hair behind one’s ear.

She was the one to lean in first and to him the feeling of her soft lips on his, for the first time ever felt like he was being reborn.

The kiss was clumsy with inexperience but it could not have been more raw and honest.

She kissed him like she didn’t care about his disfigured lips and he kissed her like it was the last thing he would ever do.

Both of them kissed like they had been starving for this and now there was nothing left to lose and by the end of the kiss both of them were crying.

A soft sob rose in his chest, fading into a huffed out laugh and he seemed drunk with fondness for her.

She only smiled, wiping his tears as he wiped hers before leaning in again to kiss her warm, soft lips once more with more urgency this time, in disbelief that he would get to experience something like this after all.

Something that made him feel less alone, more like any normal young man instead.

A wave of warmth flooded him when he felt a small, soft hand slip underneath his nightgown, resting on his bare stomach and when he pulled away from the kiss, his cheeks flushed he recognised the desire in her eyes.

Honest and playful as she was and despite his nervously racing heart he gave her the most timid nod.

There was no fear within either of them now, uncertainty perhaps and pain surely, worry about what the future might bring but they had each other after all.

Each other and a life time left to love, however long that might be.

[hyperblue]

okay i got around and actually wrote it all down, so please enjoy: timkon clone twins au lets fucking go

— they are not technically twins, they're just two clones who happen to develop back to back at the same time, but those are just semantics since they were raised like brother and sister anyway; wendy is considered oldest but only because she was the first outta test tube (tim had to have a little breakdown moment while holding her in his arms before he was able to get jackie out too; wendy is the only person who actually cares about being oldest, jackie is not thrilled because "you're literally only 10 minutes older can you maybe chill")

— wendy's full name is gwendolyn stephanie drake, bc i believe that if tim Has to honor someone by giving their name to his child it should be steph, plus i am cackling at the thought of wendy naming all her social accounts "gwen stefani"; no one really ever calls her gwen tho, the only reason she's not just wendy in papers is because tim was a little pretentious; i also quite like gwendolyn lois but i don't think tim would actually go for it (kon could tho, if he were alive at the time)

— jackie is jackson bartholomew drake. i personally prefer to think that if tim gave it some time he would probably choose a different name, but he just really missed his dad at the moment (he missed everyone, really), and by the time he actually had enough mental stability to sit on it the kid was already pretty much established as jackie withing the family, so yeah. no one ever calls him jack btw, so it's fine

— they both quite like their names although they can't help but nudge their dad a little from time to time, being like "gwendolyn stefanie, dad, really? it's like you picked up a name on pinterest or some shit" ("language"); they are both referred to as "ducklings" within the family (dick was the first to do it, tim started doing the same by pure accident and then it just kinda stuck)

— wendy took a lot after janet drake genetic-wise, to the point where it almost rubs tim in a wrong way sometimes when she gets older — her hair is much lighter than her father's or brother's and doesn't really curl that much, although she's not as pale as tim and has a distinguish golden undertone to her skin; she also gets freckles in summer. tim is one of few people who can actually see kon in her without deliberate searching, especially when she smiles. she has his eyes though, and she leans more on a shorter side (short queen supremacy)

— jackie is pretty much kon in miniature, or at least he is if you don't know where to look. kon himself insists that jackie is a perfect mix of both him and tim, it's just that distinguish curly hair and golden-brown skin throw people off most of the time — jackie for sure has tim's nose and cheekbones, tim's high forehead, tim's sheepish smiles and tim's cunning smirks. he's also a bit leaner that kon as he gets older and also a little bit shorter, although he's still taller than both tim and wendy

— wendy is a certified horse girl, she took horse riding lessons since she was like five (she was begging tim for y e a r s really, at first he insisted on waiting till she was at least six but i guess her kryptonian powers kicked in a little earlier and it doubled down some of tim's parental anxiety, although he definitely was there for a first few lessons just to keep an eye on her). damian got her her own horse eventually, because of course he did. he is her favorite uncle ever since

— she's a true crime videos/podcasts enjoyer (that's how she bonds with her dad)

— jackie is very much into making paper collages since he was around eight years old and has made his first one in school for fathers day (tim has framed it immediately and set it on his table in the WE office; it's still there after years); he used to have a lot of social anxiety as a kid because of being homeschooled 'till first grade and being very attached to tim, and has found the process of making paper collages very soothing

— jackie graduates college eventually (alfred: "thank god. at least one of them")

— they both eventually got into photography like their dad, but jackie is taking more of a professional approach, whereas wendy is mostly doing it for the sake of keeping the memories; that's why she has a small digital camera that she always carries around (it's covered in cute sparkling stickers because duh)

— they are both pan and demisexual

— as i mentioned, the kids were homeschooled for a while, by which i mean that they never went to kindergarten because tim was too paranoid about any potential kryptonian superpowers kicking in anytime; the other reason was that tim's kind of a helicopter parent, especially after coming back from his brucequest, and he's very dependent on both of his kids

— yes it backfires later

— jackie loves his dad more than anything else in the world, and has spent most of his early childhood following him around and throwing tantrums the second tim was out of his sight (which was quite rare, to be fair, at least until tim had to get back to his job at the WE); tim is 90% sure that it has something to do with him being gone for a while to find and save bruce. it evens out a little as jackie gets older and starts going to school and then college, but he's still pretty much codependent, and any decision that he makes about his life ties back to "what would dad do; will it make dad proud/happy; what would dad want for me"

— wendy on the other hand is kon's daughter through and through, she admires him and looks up to him but she has a very complicated, conflicted feelings about her and her brother's circumstances of birth, making her anxious in a way that is like "oh my god am i being annoying what if he doesn't like me what if he looks at me and only sees a living proof of his humans rights violation should i consider never talking to him again god i HATE my dad", so most of her actual interactions with kon are quite awkward on both ends

— tim and kon do not get together until kids are around their late teens, so neither of them calls or really considers kon dad, even tho he definitely played a significant part in their upbringing as soon as he came around with the whole child-cloning situation. wendy was the first to call him dad not long after she moved to the kent's farm, which was an accident, really — she was trying out vigilantism for the first time and got her ass kicked bc lack of experience, and her first instinct at being cornered by a villain was to literally just call for dad (at the back of her mind she meant tim, because to their family kon was always just kon, but the moment he pulled her in and put his hand on the back of her head and said "it's okay, sweetheart, dad's here", nothing has ever made more sense to her than kon being her father. the thought was both thrilling and terrifying)

— tim is "dad", kon is "pa" (if that wasn't already obvious)

— also, yes. wendy eventually moves to the kent's farm to live with kon; more on that in some other post

— kon kind of inherited the kent's farm after both john and martha passed away; technically clack is still the one who owns it, but his and his family's life is mostly in metropolis and he didn't want the place he grew up in turn into an empty memorial of it's better days + he also knew how important it was to kon at the time to have a place he could always return to, so yeah, everyone won in this situation

[cheynovak]

Perfect Aim - pt 1/2

Russell x Y/N f/character and co worker

Summary: Russell and Y/N are send out on a mission, she can't stand him until she gets hurt and he takes care of her.

Warnings: 18+! MDNI! - Spice/smut, blood, guns, shooting, ...

English isn't my first language

Please do not copy my work. Likes/Comments/Sharing are appreciated.

The hum of the engine filled the quiet space between us, an almost welcome respite from his incessant chatter. The man couldn’t shut up if his life depended on it.

Russel Shaw. Perfect record Shaw. Smooth-talking Shaw. And if that wasn’t annoying enough, it was clear he charmed his way through life, likely leaving broken hearts and dirty laundry behind for someone else to pick up. Probably his mother.

I folded my arms tightly across my chest, staring out of the window of his chevy to ignore his running commentary. Every word he said was like nails on a chalkboard, and the heat radiating from his cocky smirk wasn’t helping. His reflection caught my side-eye in the window, and he laughed.

“Damn, you remind me of my little brother, Colter.” His tone was teasing, but the casual dig at my mood set my teeth on edge.

I turned to glare at him, narrowing my eyes. He loved that. Of course, he did.

“Oh yeah, sweetheart, just like that. I like my women feisty.” His grin widened like he was daring me to respond.

“Like you could even handle me,” I muttered, more for myself than him.

“I bet I can,” he replied smoothly, looking me up and down as if he had the right. “What do you say, shall I remove you from those uncomfortable pants once this mission is complete?”

“Perv,” I shot back under my breath, refusing to give him the satisfaction of anything more. The rest of the ride was silent, just how I liked it.

***

The job was straightforward on paper: grab the intel, avoid bloodshed, and get out clean, no killing! And it had gone that way—at least until the alarm screamed its betrayal into the silent halls.

“Run!” he yelled over the chaos.

Adrenaline and pure spite for the man fueled me as we sprinted through the labyrinth of corridors, but it wasn’t enough when I felt the sharp sting in my leg and hit the ground.

My hand reached just above my knee, seeing how the blood started to collor my pants darker. "Fuck!" I yell at the pain. I looked up see Russel coming back.

"Stay down!" he yelled aiming his gun.

The sound of his gun firing shocked me, for a second forgetting about the pain.

"Come on, I got you." he said and before I knew it, he was hauling me up and dragging me to safety. His arm draped around my side while the other held my arm around his broad shoulders.

"Can you walk?" he asked while I looked back over our shoulders to the men lying dead in the hallway. "uhu" I answered agreeing.

***

The ride to the motel was tense, silence heavy except for my ragged breaths. He looked back to where I was sitting in the back. "Keep pressure on that leg!" he ordered.

In other circumstances I'd bit back, knowing how I'm no child and cab take care of myself. But this time I'd be wise and shut my mouth.

***

Russel drops me onto his motel bed before retrieving something out of his car. Something that looks like an home made ER kit.

His hands were steady, no-nonsense, as he stripped off my boots and tore my pants to clean the wound.

“This might hurt a little, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice softer, concerned even. " Are you sure you won't go to a doctor?"

“Been through worse,” I bit back, hiding the way my stomach turned at the pain of him searching for the bullet. My hand clenching the sheets trying to hold my leg still.

***

Once my leg was closed up, stitched and clean he moved me to my bed, visibly relieved.

He handed me a glass of bourbon, sinking into the chair across from the bed. “Reckon you deserve it,” he said quietly.

I drank without answering, the weight of the day settling heavily. Unable to hold the tensed silence. A joke slipped out before I could stop it. “Well, at least you got me out of my pants tonight.”

I felt his eyes scan my bare legs, maybe even a little too long. I've never been self cautious, but his glare made me want to cover up my silk black panties.

But them I heard his laughter, rich and full, echoed around the small room as he leaned back. “Touché,” he replied, shaking his head as though I were an enigma he couldn’t quite solve.

It was too quiet then, the kind of quiet where you could hear truths trying to fight their way to the surface. “Hey, Russel,” I broke the silence, my voice softer. “Why did you shoot to kill?”

“Who said I did?” His answer was quick, his tone flippant.

“Come on. Your aim’s too good to shoot two men dead on accident. And that's a compliment, it's taste horrible on my tongue so take it."

His hand tightened around his glass, his knuckles whitening. “I know it was supposed to be a no-kill mission." he admitted after a pause, looking anywhere but at me.

"But seeing you hurt… it triggered something. I—” His voice wavered, and for once, there wasn’t a trace of smugness. “I admire you, Y/N. Always have.”

He smirks looking at his glass again. "I eh, I asked for a very long time to team us up. Finally they agreed and look at you."

The weight of his words hit like a blow. Admire sounded too much like *more than admire,* but I ignored it, brushing off the warmth pooling low in my stomach.

"It's not your fault." I whisper. "The killing is." he looked me in the eye. I saw disappointment, hurt, flicker briefly across his face.

He moved to stand and poured another glass.

“Hey, Russ, can you help me? I nodded towards the bathroom. He moved on his feet before I even finished the sentence.

As he bent to help me up, I tugged him closer by the back of his neck, crushing my lips to his before I could think better of it. He froze for the briefest moment before relaxing into the kiss, returning it with unguarded intensity.

"Thank you." I murmured against his lips.

When I finally pulled him down onto the bed with me, he braced his hands on either side of my body, staring down like he wasn’t sure this was real. “Don’t want to hurt you, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice rough, his eyes darker.

“You won’t,” I answered, my voice steady despite the heat flooding my veins. "Shaw,” I teased, voice low, “I reckon you deserve this.”

Russel smiled into the kiss, a quiet chuckle rumbling from his chest as his body pressed carefully against mine. His movements were deliberate, slow but confident, as if savoring every moment.

Hiis calloused hand trailed down my side, his touch igniting something inside me that I hadn’t anticipated. When his lips began to explore the curve of my neck, I couldn’t stop the soft moan that escaped my lips.

His kisses became more insistent, wandering lower, as his hands skillfully removed the barriers between us—clothing discarded with a confidence that betrayed his experience.

But none of it felt rushed. It felt... intentional. My fingers tangled in his hair, soft and surprisingly silky, scratching lightly along his shoulders. The groan he released sent a shiver through me.

I couldn’t hide my reaction, my heart stuttering in a way I wasn’t used to, not with him. His fingers toyed with the waistband of my remaining clothing, waiting. I bit my lower lip, a silent permission that his sharp eyes immediately caught.

Without a word, he tugged them off, his gaze flicking up to meet mine, ensuring I was still with him.

When I nodded, his lips curved into a rare, genuine smile, the kind that wasn’t steeped in bravado. Then he surprised me—he kissed down my stomach, his movements unhurried and intentional.

This wasn’t what I expected from Russel Shaw.

I always pictured him as arrogant, quick to take, sing a woman for a quick blow leaving in the morning kind of guy, but everything about him now was... giving. Thoughtful.

He moved with purpose, pressing kisses to my skin like he wanted to map every inch of me. And when his head dipped lower and I felt the first deliberate stroke of his tongue, my back arched off the bed.

My mind blurred, my fingers clenching in his hair as sensation overwhelmed me. It wasn’t just what he did—it was how he did it. He took his time, responding to every sound and movement I made, adjusting with a precision I hadn’t thought possible from someone like him.

The low hum of appreciation he released vibrated through me, as though he was savoring me as much as I was unraveling under his touch.

“Russ,” I gasped, unsure if it was a plea or an acknowledgment of the man completely undoing me.

Painkillers had worked well. The throbbing ache in my leg? A distant memory. All that remained was him, his mouth, his touch—completely consuming every shred of thought.

The moment felt endless and too fleeting all at once, his actions so perfectly attuned it left me breathless, every nerve alight. It was intimate in a way I hadn’t thought possible with Russel, leaving me to wonder if I ever truly knew the man at all.

The intensity of Russel's focus was unlike anything I’d ever felt. His fingers teased along my sensitive flesh, their movements deliberate and methodical, sending shockwaves through my body.

The first finger entered, curling and pumping with precision that made my breath hitch, my back arching off the bed. When a second finger joined, then a third, it was too much. The pressure built until I was screaming his name, tugging hard on his hair as my world went white.

His free hand moved to cup my breast, fingers pinching and rolling, heightening every sensation, while his lips and tongue continued their meticulous work. I felt completely undone, laid bare in a way that was both terrifying and electrifying. His hand didn’t falter, carrying me through wave after wave until I was left trembling beneath him.

"You like that, huh? Yeah, I can tell. I can *feel* you," he emphasized the word, grinding slow and deep. “Your body’s so eager for me, so needy… Are going to come, sweetheart?”

I finally reached it and when I came down from the high, Russel climbed up my body, his expression soft but smoldering.

He positioned himself carefully between my legs, but the weight of him had my injured leg shifting. Pain shot through me, and I hissed, sucking in a breath.

“You don’t have to,” he said, his tone almost shy as if he wasn’t the same man who’d just pulled me apart moments ago.

“No,” I replied, shaking my head, “Don’t stop.” The need in my voice surprised me, but it was the truth.

Russel hesitated, his hand grazing my cheek, and I couldn’t help but laugh—bitterly amused at how this man could be such a gentleman when I was lying there, legs wide open for him.

"Say it,” he demanded, his voice a low growl that vibrated against my throat. "Tell me what you need from me. Tell me how bad you want me, Y/N."

“Just fuck me, Russel,” I snapped, desperate now.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, smirking, his voice dropping an octave as he positioned himself.

The first thrust was gentle, almost too careful, as though I might break beneath him. But he still hit that spot with unerring precision, proving once again that Russel knew exactly how to aim.

Each movement after was soft but firm, his rhythm thoughtful, avoiding any aggravation to my injury but still managing to drive me insane. My hips bucked against him, urging him on, desperate for more.

“God,” I gasped as he tangled himself deeper into me, his hands everywhere—on my hips, gripping my shoulders, tracing down my sides. The sheer overwhelming intimacy made me squirm under him, needing him faster, harder.

“You like that, sweetheart?” he muttered against my ear, his voice rough and breathless. "That's it," he groaned as my hips rolled up to meet him.

"Taking me so perfectly. Fuck, Y/N, you were made for this—made for me." He bit down gently on the lobe of my ear, a quiet growl slipping past his lips.

“Russ,” I moaned, the sound half a plea, half surrender. His movements turned sharper, his breathing ragged, his restraint faltering as he gave me what I needed.

As Russel moved against me, each slow, precise thrust sending shockwaves through my body, his lips found my ear. His voice, rough with restraint, brushed against my skin as he murmured.

"You feel so good, sweetheart," he rasped, his breath warm and ragged. "You don't even know what you’re doing to me, do you? Been thinking about this… about you for years."

The depth in his tone sent a shiver straight through me, and my fingers dug into his back, urging him closer.

I let out a whimper in response, my head tilting back, exposing my throat to him. His lips trailed down, pressing against my pulse as his hips snapped just a little harder, dragging a gasp from me.

"Listen to you," he murmured against my skin. "Every noise you make is mine, sweetheart. You sound so fucking beautiful."

His hand slid to the back of my knee, carefully lifting my injured leg to wrap around his waist. He hissed at the change in angle, but his thrusts had me crying out, louder now.

He looked up at me, I could feel him retreat, on instinct I grab his neck and shoulders. Kissing his neck.

“I need you,” I admitted, the words falling unbidden as my back arched and I clutched at him. “I need all of you. I can… I can take a little pain, keep going .”

“That’s my girl,” he said, his voice tinged with smug satisfaction. His fingers gripped my hip tightly as he began thrusting harder, each movement driving deeper and making my body shudder.

“You’re so damn perfect,” he muttered, his tone raw with honesty as if the words had slipped out unguarded. “So tight, so wet. Just for me, huh? You know how crazy that makes me?” His voice cracked slightly, and I could feel his control starting to slip.

He dropped his head to my shoulder, kissing and biting down as his breath hitched. “You’re driving me insane, sweetheart. Can’t hold back much longer… You gonna come for me again? Let me feel you fall apart on my cock.?”

The dirty, guttural edge in his voice sent me spiraling. My nails dragged down his back as my body tensed, his name falling from my lips like a prayer. The words didn’t stop, his encouragement turning filthy as he coaxed me through the final push.

"That's it, baby," he groaned, feeling me clamp down around him. “Let go. Let me hear you scream my name, yeah? You feel so fucking good, Y/N. Come on baby girl, milk me.”

I fell apart beneath him, and his own release followed quickly, the sounds of his pleasure mingling with mine. Even as we tangled together, spent and breathless, his lips pressed soft words against my temple.

My body tightened around him, every nerve electrified, and as he ground into me one last time, stars burst behind my eyes. His groan, low and guttural, reached me as I felt him lose control, his body trembling as we came together.

For a moment, the room was silent except for our heavy breathing. Russel stayed above me, his arms trembling slightly from holding himself up. Finally, he collapsed onto the bed beside me, pulling me into his chest, careful of my leg.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he murmured against my hair, his voice warm and surprisingly soft.

“Yeah,” I replied, still catching my breath. “I guess… you weren’t just bragging when you said you could handle me.”

He chuckled, low and satisfied, brushing his fingers down my arm.

***

The buzzing of Russels phone on the night stand woke me.

The morning felt colder than it should have and still the memories of last night warmth my chest. I could still feel the ghost of Russel’s touch, the intimacy of last night lingering on my skin, but it clashed with an icy feeling gnawing at the back of my mind.

I hopped out of bed and walked to the bathroom. My leg ached as I cleaned the wound, trying to focus on something tangible—anything to drown out the vulnerable warmth still blooming in my chest.

When Russel walked in behind me, his presence was an instant shift in the air. I could feel him watching me as I dabbed at the stitches.

"I could have done that," he said, his voice still husky from sleep.

"I know, but you were sleeping," I snapped back, harsher than I intended. There was an edge of defense to it, and I immediately bit my tongue.

Russel frowned but said nothing, instead leaning forward to press a kiss to my temple. I froze.

He pulled back with a quiet sigh. "I guess we need to head back to HQ soon," he muttered before disappearing into the shower, leaving me standing there with my mind spinning.

"Yeah, I guess."

I clutched the counter, my reflection staring back at me with wide, confused eyes. The kiss—it wasn’t like him. Russel Shaw wasn’t gentle, wasn’t... soft. Was he? The warmth stirred in my chest again, and my heart fluttered against my better judgment.

Stop it. He’s Russel Shaw. He doesn’t do this. But he was soft last night. Only because you where hurt. Or wasn't that it?

Did he... made love to me?

I couldn’t help the thought that maybe,just maybe, I wasn’t just another notch on his bedpost. Maybe last night had meant something to him too.

He said he admired me... I tried to push the idea aside, determined to keep my head clear. But I felt like a love sick puppy.

Then I heard it again. The soft chime.

My gaze darted to where Russel’s phone rested on the nightstand, the screen lighting up with another message. The room was quiet except for the sound of the shower running, and I shouldn’t have looked. I knew better, but curiosity was a demanding thing.

I limped over, trying not to jostle my leg too much, and hesitated before tapping the screen. A preview of notifications slid into view.

**5 missed calls. 3 texts.**

My chest tighten.

Reenie:

*"I tried to call you."*

*"Don’t ignore me, Russ"*

*"Russel, come home."*

That last text hit me like a fist to the stomach.

Home.

The word clawed at my throat, choking me. Home meant someone waiting for him. Someone he had obligations to. A wife? A girlfriend?

I stumbled back, bile rising in my throat. The warmth from last night shattered into cold, piercing clarity. I felt like a fool—a stupid, naive fool. The intimacy, the softness, the connection I thought we had... all of it felt like a cruel joke.

He had someone else. Someone he was going back to while I was daydreaming about something more, while now left with nothing but guilt and regret.

My chest tightened painfully as humiliation crashed over me. I had fallen for his charm, let myself be vulnerable. And now, I was a mistake he’d leave behind while going back to his perfect life.

Tears blurred my vision as I grabbed my bag and threw it over my shoulder, my injured leg protesting with every movement. I needed to get out of here. Now. Before he could come out of that bathroom, flashing that perfect, crooked smile, and tell me another lie.

I yanked open the door and hobbled into the hallway, every step feeling heavier than the last. I barely noticed the stares as I boarded the first bus I could find, not even bothering to look at where it was heading.

All I knew was I had to escape—from him, from my feelings, from this mess. The tears spilled over as I slumped into a seat, clutching my bag like it was the only thing anchoring me to reality.

I felt stupid. Stupid for thinking I could be more to someone like Russel Shaw.

And worse, stupid for still hoping, deep down, that I was wrong.

--

taglist

@jackles010378 @libby99hb @winchesterwild78 @suckitands33 @mostlymarvelgirl @deans-baby-momma @ancles @tulipsvanilla

@thesilmarillionblog @jays-bonnie-on-the-side @kr804573 @kamisobsessed @hobby27 @globetrotter28 @kindollss

@muhahaha303 @shadysoulangel @lyarr24 @spxideyver @impala67rollingthroughtown @panickedbitch @deansimpalababy

@livya99 @yvonneeeee @ladykitana90 @stoneyggirl2 @imsiriuslyreal @panickedbitch @roseblue373 @n-o-p-e-never @ariasong11

[canisbrutus]

3 Headcanons for every nerd. Go.

Earnest Jones -

Actually incredibly fond of the gothic/horror aesthetic, although he lacks the spine to actually finish games like Silent Hill; under different circumstances he would've been emo. That said, he still had the fattest crush on Elvira, and kept a poster under his mattress.

He's not as twiggy as some of the other nerds, but he would've been a bit bulkier if he didn't have issues with a lot of food, texture-wise. His diet largely consisted of tea, toast, and instant ramen cups. Not including Melvin, he touches a fruit once every three months.

He's taken courses for like three different languages (spanish, french, german) and is fluent in exactly none of them, pronunciation-wise. The former two he still struggles with but he can read german very well, for some reason.

Melvin O'Connor -

Yeah his home life and upbringing is so ass he uses fantasy escapism to cope. Made him out to be a fuckin incredible storyteller though! He draws from things like the elder scrolls, zelda, the lord of the rings, etc... and his appetite for the genre isn't limited to any one form of media; he's rented out nearly every book in the library on that note.

He may look like he's dissociated from reality most of the time, and this is Partially true, but don't be fooled; he's much more perceptive than you'd expect. Insults seldom go over his head, though he usually plays dumb either to avoid conflict or because it's just funny. but he doesn't forget.

That haircut of his is relatively dated, and out of fashion... but tis his pride and joy, next to his lore database. He spends a significant part of his morning styling it, often carries a comb, seldom leaves it greasy, etc. As a result he's probably one of the least offensive nerds for one's olfactory senses.

Bucky Pasteur -

The TV in his home is often set to an older station, showcasing things like Gilligan's Island and M*A*S*H*. He's especially fond of both the older and newer episodes of Dr Who, recommended to him by his gran, and he would almost certainly be annoying about it if tumblr existed in his highschool years. Mind you, fanfiction.net was around since '98...

He's made efforts at taming the academy's feral rat population, even scooping up and relocating them whenever his cliquemates would scream bloody murder over them approaching their turf. Had he not been busy elsewhere when they infested the library he would've tried to corral them peacefully; instead he was thoroughly distraught by Jimmy's bloodshed.

Honestly him and Thad have something kinda faggy going on in the background, though neither will admit it for one reason or another. Liking men vs Hating women type of homos. Don't worry about it.

Francois "Fatty" Johnson -

Very strong vocal stimmer, much to the dismay of everyone who hears him. He likes to sing acapella, he claims, whether it's beatboxing or hooting in a variety of tones. Many a earworm has been born from his yodeling

He keeps his G&G dice in his navel. Given the state of his hygiene, it's as unpleasant to witness as it sounds. Beatrice, Melvin, & Thad are especially put off by this. The table is sanitized after every game though, so it's probably fine.

The clique's hardcore gamer; it's not uncommon for him to play something for 12 hours straight. Sometimes it's trying to 100% crash bandicoot in a single sitting, other times it's pounding energy drinks pushing consumo to it's absolute breaking point. He also dabbles in speedrunning.

Donald Anderson -

He values his own intellect highly, going above and beyond to one-up his peers. His glasses are purely cosmetic; an attempt to make himself look smarter, even if he supposedly loathes being considered a nerd.

Something else he loathes is his own softness; his almost meek voice and long lashes in particular. The jocks often call him things like Bambi, doe-eyes, taunting him about hunting season and venison being on the menu, etc. Clearly they've never been charged by a stag.

Oddly enough he was on decent terms with Pete, on account of them being both weaselly 'girly' boys. The pair would often shittalk people together, though they later drifted apart because Donald just couldn't set aside his superiority complex for five minutes. He was likely the one to suggest he join the nerd clique, though Pete didn't make the cut.

Beatrice Trudeau -

God help this poor girl; she was like Wendy to Peter Pan and the lost boys regarding these little pricks. Like Melvin, she served as the backbone of the clique, though more for morale instead of outright plotting with Earnest. There wasn't a single day without somebody coming to her crying lookin to vent or otherwise seek validation for getting swirlied or wedgied or called ugly. Gave her plenty of blackmail material however.

She was one of two nerds safeguarded against the Preps' harassment (for the most part), on account of Parker (and later, Pinky) vouching for her wellbeing. Even after their botany project fell through, she'd still be allowed into the greenhouse roof of Bullworth's Harrington House for experimental purposes. Despite a certain level of awkwardness that accompanied it, the (relative) peace and quiet was much needed.

This girl kicks like a horse. She's lanky as hell and she's got legs for days. Yes she's fairly patient, but when pushed too far she will aim for the nuts. Jimmy found out the hard way in the carnival.

Algernon Papadopoulos -

He tends to carry little baggies of like. Animal Cracker-type snacks. Teddy grahams, goldfish, swedish fish, etc... the allure of wee beasties is strong. Occasionally he'll also use them as G&G pieces, but it's not a very good idea.

Not many people expect him to be a decent pickpocket, but he gets away with it more than you think. This boy knows a good few magician's tricks; sleight of hand and whatnot. He's best with manipulating yo-yos and those worms on a string, however he's still pondered if he's better off running away and joining the traveling carnival than becoming a veterinarian or whatever.

His home is admittedly not very nice, though his mother is one of the sweetest folks in the world. He's a victim of circumstance by and large, being brought up in a mouse-infested hoarder home that constantly reeks of piss. Bullworth is not a good place for mental health issues, so things get left unchecked, but it's still nothing to be ashamed of, as she'd always say.

Thad Carlson -

When it was time for the nerds to revamp the astronomy lab as their hideout, Thad (with Bucky's help) was the main man in charge of repairs, largely thanks to his knowledge of power tools. Much of the handiwork was rickety, of course; utilizing scavenged metal sheets and planks from the miniature junkyard behind the auto shop (which didn't improve his rep with the greasers).

He's had a few pet insects over the years; finding them easier to care for and connect with than, say, hounds. His current charges are a stickbug and a praying mantis; the latter of which he likens himself to. Others consider him more of a ferret, lacking the serene grace, much to his displeasure because he 'sure as hell doesn't reek like one.'

Fueled by what may or may not've been concern, repulsion, or something else, he once rolled up the various rugs in Bucky's room and mopped the (dirty) (hasn't seen a scrub in 10+ years) (very prone to splintering) floor while the poor squeaking bastard protested from his bed. What prompted this? Walking around in white socks for about five minutes only to find the bottoms of them a dusty grey-brown.

Cornelius Johnson -

As I've mentioned many times before, she's transfem, yes. She came out to a handful of people such as her then-partner Trent, Beatrice, Bucky, and Jimmy. It's likely Melvin's sewn her a skirt. Bullworth sure as hell wasn't a nice place to come out but thankfully she had her support where she needed it.

Quite fond of pollinators (with her favorites being hawkmoths especially), she's been rearing butterflies and moths to release in a community garden project up north near the church, which she tends to in her (rare) free time alongside Beatrice. It's nothing particularly impressive yet, but they're trying their best to foster some kind of good in that dump of a town.

She's possibly one of, if not the only student Ms Peters' really enjoys having in her classes, overthinking babble aside. She really did make an excellent Juliet, putting her whole soul into it, seemed like. In any case she's certainly one of the brightest students of the bunch, both intellectually and personally, despite everything thrown at her.

even with an attempt at writing something short it came out relatively long. how much of this is accurate? who knows its all true to me. nature is beautiful.

[writing masterpost]

[tribalauthor]

THE WISEWOMAN (roman reigns ff) <chapter 2>

word count: 2.2k

"I'm sorry we had to meet this way, Miss Heyman." my future boss started with this. He is a pretty tall man with no hair and a lot of beard. People know him as Triple H or "The Game" but right now he is the CEO of WWE, replacing his problematic father in law, Vince McMahon.

Yes, I was studying the whole day and night yesterday. I knew some stuff from uncle but it's literally common sense. I have always respected the work he is doing in WWE but my interest wasn't that deep. Now it had to become deep since I want to appear as well-educated as much as possible. I don't wanna be perceived as a spoiled, dumb-blonde nepo niece.

"Me too, Mr. Levesque but see, this is how life is." I said with empathetic tone.

"I don't know what Paul has told you about the payment but you are gonna get paid depending on your performances - you do good numbers, you get a good check. Your uncle is a very well-known and respected figure in this business and I am not sure how the crowd is going to react to all of this" what a great way to explain that I will have a salary only if I do my job right.

What a shocker.

"Don't worry, Mr. Levesque. I see where you are coming from. In this male-dominated industry, it's rare to see a female talker " I chuckled but this isn't the end.

"I know that my uncle is one of a kind but I am going to specify that he insisted me to do this job and if he didn't think I was suitable for it, he would have never said it in the first place, let alone persuade me to leave my current job. Therefore, I'm really confident about all of this. Sure, the WWE fans have very fixed and nostalgic tendencies but I think they are going to get used to this short-term novelty." I spoke with pure confidence in my voice and body language.

My boss was left speechless. I get these reactions a lot honestly. When people see me, especially men, they have no idea how I can shush them just in a few seconds...or minutes. Depends on the monologue I'm going to drop on them.

"I-uh appreciate the confidence, Miss Heyman. I hope you like it here and who knows, maybe you can become a full-time employee" Paul reached his arm for a shake and I shook his hand.

"Thank you for hiring me, Mr. Levesque and can't promise anything about the last part" I chuckled.

"Just call me Hunter. We are not that formal in here". He gave me a faint smile.

"Noted". I nodded my head and someone knocked on the door.

"That must be him" my boss stated. "Come in" he yelled.

Our eyes were at the door and there he is. The Tribal Chief as he is called. The Head of the Table. His tall and stoic build radiates so much power and dominance. That's an enormous man right there. Well, he is The Rock's cousin, so I get it. It's in the genes.

He was wearing a black Nike hoodie and black Nike shorts combined with black Nike sneakers. Is this man a Nike ambassador? What's next? Nike boxers?

Let's not go there, Sophia.

Roman had his dark brown hair in a bun but it was not very slick, his hair looks fluffy and he had this pretty thick salt and pepper beard.

Yup, such an uncle. An athletic one, though.

"Roman, you are just on time." the boss greeted him.

Roman's eyes were all on me looking at me from head to toe. There was a nuance of disbelief in his eyes mixed with a smirk on his mouth.

How do I interpret this?

"This is gonna be my Wise Woman? Pf." Something like this is going through his mind.

The Samoan man was walking to us. Of course, he has that confident "Look at me, I'm the toughest of them all" gait. And he has the right to, yes. That man and his whole bloodline have achieved so much in this business which is worth of respect.

"Meet your temporary Wise Woman". Hunter said with a state tone.

"And you are the Tribal Chief my uncle never shuts up about" I replied and he chuckled. I haven't even started yet.

"So you are Sophia." Roman flashed his 24-carat-white-pearl smile. "Paul just told me a lot about you."

"Funny, your uncle has never told me Barbie was his niece. If you are looking for a Ken, this ain't the place for you." ah, we started with the "witty" comments, took him long enough.

"Thank you for the concern, Mr. Reigns but finding a Ken is not in my top priorities right now."

"I see, I see. You are all about business, right?" he asked and slightly furrowed his eyebrows.

"Correct". I nodded my head. And there was this awkward silence.

He started showing me around the building and finally we went to his locker room. "This is our little place where me and your uncle like to scheme" Roman said with a smile on his face.

"Woah. It's pretty spacious." that's all what I managed to say.

When I heard about the locker room thing, I didn't imagine it to look like this. This place looks...neat. Well maybe my views about wrestling are stereotypical but in my mind there was a very small, messy place with the heavy smell of sweat.

This locker room is like an apartment. There are a few black leather couches and armchairs, fridges which are probably full of energy, sugar free drinks or whatever athletes drink, maybe even some food. The walls were painted in dark blue like the brand of the show Roman is in - Smackdown. There was also a big TV on the wall where he probably watches the other matches and stuff.

It's cozy, not gonna lie.

"The best room is for the champ" he said quietly but with that cocky tone and winked at me.

I didn't know how to react. I just nodded and smiled.

"Have you ever slept here?" I asked out of nowhere.

"Hell no. When we travel with the private bus, we usually sleep there since it's like a big apartment and when we use the private jet, we head off immediately." oh, so he has private everything I see.

How much does that man make?

"Sometimes your uncle is in a mood of seeing around the place we have to stay at. He knows the good stuff" Roman sighed. "I'm gonna miss him. Hope he recovers soon."

"He will. He is in good hands. My auntie is gonna take after him." I said trying not to burst out laughing. Yes, in fact, my cousins said she is really going to take after uncle and I'm sure he wants to die right now cause he was damn ready to call a hot babysitter chick and he would have gotten better in a blink of an eye or at least he would claim so.

"What? Your auntie? As in his ex-wife? Miranda?" Roman was as confused as me. Uncle has enlightened him, 100%. I nodded my head and Roman started laughing. He has a very cute laugh actually, not as deep as his voice.

It's strange seeing an enormous man like him, perceived as tough and scary, laughing like a little kid.

"Then there is no place for concern. He is gonna be back before we even realize it." he wiped the little tear that formed in his eye.

I wonder if he's married. He might be. I don't know but I am not going to ask him, that's for sure. Didn't take a look on his hands to see if there is a ring.

"I think that uncle is exaggerating. Auntie Miranda is not that bad". I tried to defend her but Roman gave me the look of "oh, you don't know anything".

"Clearly, Paul has never told you the spicy details". This line alone made me think of how does my ex, Robert, paint me out in front of his friends.

I didn't realize I completely zoned out until I saw Roman's big hand waving in front of my face.

"Is everything alright?" he asked with a tiny bit of concern in his face. Very tiny bit.

"Yes. I would like to ask about my schedule, by the way" he made a sign for me to sit on the black leather couch.

"Would you like some coffee, tea, energy drink or why not wine or champagne?" he asked while going to the fridge.

"Thought athletes didn't drink alcohol." I raised my eyebrow.

"Sometimes we need it, sweetie." he slightly chuckled and opened the fridge. Did he just call me 'sweetie'?

"Water would be okay, thank you, Mr. Reigns." I heard him chuckling while reaching for the water bottle.

"Nah, don't Mr. me. Just call me Roman...or Joe." he came to me and handed me the water bottle, looking at me dead in the eye.

"Which one do you prefer?" I asked with a little smirk.

"Anything works for me." he shrugged and I thanked him for the water. "My Tribal Chief works the best, though." he said rather innocently and I laughed.

"Yeah, no" I shook my head with a fake smile on my face. "The Tribal Chief stuff is only for camera. I'm not crazy like my uncle" I just got flashbacks from yesterday how he started talking about his Tribal Chief stuff. A fatal 4-way match at the Royal Rumble and Wrestlemania 40.

"There's no way he said this" His whole face is smiling when he laughs, his eyes almost go away. It's adorable, not going to lie.

"He so did" I sighed.

"Paul takes his job very, very seriously and if we're being real there would be no Tribal Chief without him. He made me think of ways that elevated me and my bloodline to a whole new level" Roman suddenly started speaking on a serious note. I am so glad to hear that so many people appreciate my uncle but nothing will ever beat the things he has done for me.

"That's why he is my favorite man ever" I sighed.

I saw Roman reaching out to the cupboard and taking a list from there.

"So here's the schedule." he handed me the paper and Lord, when I saw this, I almost passed out.

"That many appearances? How many promos I have to prepare?" my eyes almost popped out after seeing everything.

"It's Wrestlemania season, baby. It's tough out here." he stroked his gold shiny belt which was over the cupboard.

"Can I hold it?" I said looking at that magnificent championship which was literally dripping in ice.

"Sure. You better get ready to hold it a lot." I stood up and he handed it to me. I put it over my shoulder exactly like uncle does and not gonna lie, I feel powerful.

"Whoa. That's a bit heavier than I imagined." I spoke frankly.

"It looks good on you." Roman complimented me. "Look at yourself." he pointed at the mirror at the other side of the room. It was really looking good on my pleated light brown dress.

"May I wrap it around me?" I asked with enthusiasm.

"Let me do it for you." he took the belt and wrapped it around my waist.

He got a bit closer to me and his muscular figure completely towering over me and I am with heels. I can't imagine if I'm not. His masculine cologne hit my nostrills just right.

My eyes were glued to the mirror.

"You smell so good." he suddenly said and caught me a bit off guard. I had a vanilla smell on me. Basic but always effective.

"Thank you." I managed to say.

"Your waist is so little." he remarked as he chuckled softly and glued the belt. It really looks very big on me. "Are you working out?"

"I do pilates." I replied and turned to him. He had that impressed expression on his face while I was expecting him to criticize me or be skeptical.

"Great. It does a great work." he stated as he was glancing at my body and I furrowed my eyebrows. "I mean in getting in shape." why does he look nervous?

If I don't say something soon, he will probably turn red.

"Well, it can't beat yours." I chuckled slightly. "You probably train for like 8 hours a day or something."

"Sometimes it's 8, it depends. But usually is like two or three." my jaw was on the floor.

"Crazy. I might die if I have to do a workout of yours." I shook my head accepting my fate.

"I can figure something out for you. We can train together sometime." Roman suggested.

"We'll see if I will ever prepare for that...physically and mentally." I gave an uncertain answer.

"Come on. You can make me do some pilates and you make me do weights. I think I'd be a fun hang out."

Hang out.

"Probably." I squinted my eyes trying to visualize him doing some pilates exercises and I couldn't help but laugh. I put my hand on my mouth.

"What did you just envision, young lady?" Roman seemed confused.

"Nothing." I lied. "I just...remembered something funny."

He gave me that look of suspicion, obviously not trusting what I'm saying and I just laughed again.

[marxistlesbianist]

Hey, I've read your Principles of Communism, and I think it's a really cool and sorely needed initiative, especially in the imperial core, so much, in fact that it inspired me to do the same in my native language, French.

I have a couple of doubts about what to put in my edition, since I want to tailor it for a local reach rather than an international one like yours, and I wanted to ask you for your opinion on the subject:

In Question 18, railroad magnates and shipowners are used as examples of groups that will be expropriated. However, in my country, those two are pretty much absent from public consciousness, especially since railroads have only been very recently privatized. I've been thinking about replacing it with a more, for lack of a better word, relevant occupation to connect better with my intended audience, but I'm not sure what else is equivalent. Do you have any idea on the matter ?

In Question 23, do you think it might be wise to occult the eventual disparition of existing religions in communist society if one aims to agitate in marginalized communities where oppressed religions are a federating force ?

In a more local context, do you think the more general analysis in Question 25 is still more valuable than an application of Engels' reasoning to relevant local parties ?

Thank you for your excellent work !

I'm so glad the booklet has inspired you!! (And to be clear also, I only desrve credit for the printing initiative--the bulk of the editing was done by comrade @libertineangel.) Regardless, I will do my best to answer your questions, with the caviat that I am ill-equipped to speak to the needs of the French readership specifically.

For Question 18, you raise an interesting point. I would keep railroad magnates and ship owners in the text, as they are services which do need to be promptly socialized, even if they don't weigh as heavy in popular consciousness. I do think that for the modern context though, it would probably be good to add tech entrepreneurs to the list, both from a practical and propagandistic perspective.

For Qestion 23, I understand the concern but I am very much opposed to obscuring communist positions for the purpose of mass appeal. I don't think that we should be campaigning on the disolusion of religion per se, but when asked about it I do think that we should be honest. If someone is genuinely curious about communism, then it should be a point of conversation rather than immediate dismissal. That being said, you could perhaps change it to "disparition of existing religions as political institutions" if you are really concerned.

For Question 25, I do think that a more direct appraisal of local political parties would be valuable--if you have experience in communist organizing to speak from. Recall that Engels' judgements were not simply his own estimations, but a summary of the experiences of Communist League members across Europe. An account of the political parties grounded in practical experience is probably more valuable than the general reasoning, but the general reasoning is probably more valuable than an account based on pure observation. Of course, Idk your position here, so it's up to you and your irl comrades to make that estimation!

[greek-letter-verse]

How come betas can’t be priests in your version of the omegaverse?

For realsies this time.

Omegaverse as a fanfiction genre is typically very focused on alpha-omega pairs as the basis of social structure. My version of it is sort of a commentary on the genre, with common tropes forming prominent beliefs in-universe.

If alphas and omegas are seen as the most important (though importance doesn't necessarily translate to power in case of omegas), then it stands to reason that society would value traits associated with these dynamics, especially with alphas, more. And what are the main traits associated with alphas and omegas, but not betas? Pure horny, of course, but also just extreme emotions in general. So in my mind, main omegaverse culture would value strong emotions as pure, natural, and honest, while people with seemingly duller emotions and emotional displays (stereotypical of betas) would be seen as the opposite - shifty and overly materialistic. It's a rather Dionysian culture, at least in its "traditional" form.

Divinity and spiritual wisdom would be thought of as something that you can only learn about in mysterious, instinctual ways, considered unavailable to materialistic, unspiritual betas. This would be reflected in the myths and the (interpretations of) main religious texts. For example, in creation myths, betas might be flawed versions of other dynamics, or only born from the first alpha and omega instead of being shaped directly by deities. Beta religious figures might have their dynamic be stereotyped, erased, or considered a metaphor (since "beta" is also used to mean "best friend" or "second-in-command" in many Omegaverse languages). Some sects even believe that betas would not be allowed into the same afterlife as alphas and omegas. In alchemical and spiritual practices betas might be associated with concepts like elemental earth, chemical non-reactivity (as they are both the least affected by sex pheromones and the least fertile), salt, neutrality, relationship with the material world (as opposed to the social or spiritual one) and the body.

Other than the "unspiritual" stereotype, there's also the fact that betas are considered natural sidekicks, which doesn't encourage putting them in leadership positions in mixed-dynamic groups. With these facts combined, it's no wonder many religions would ban them from priesthood, consigning them to secular acolite positions.

Omegas would similarly be considered unsuited for leadership, but without the "unspiritual" stereotype (quite the opposite, actually) they could fill out the wise hermit/oracle/nun niche quite nicely. I also imagine that bans on omega priesthood would be lifted sooner and in more denominations, as omegas' higher admission into religious life would motivate them to expand their rights within it, while betas would be more likely to walk away from it entirely.

[hellwurld]

Oh my god. So I binge read ur lesbian!lawstappen works because they are literally my girls and im a lesbian who loves evil blondes. Idea: evil blondes take the 2025 fia awards. It’s up to you to decide how the 2025 season goes but however it goes they show up to the fia award ceremony arm in arm (teammates rivals lovers who cares they’re gay they tick all the boxes) Liam is. Insane. The dress idk what vibe but like. She looks amazing. And she’s forced max to be presentable and the two of them. I’m thinking contrasting colour schemes but sharing accessories. Just them at an awards ceremony or fancy event and them both just gay panicking over the other in their own way.

OHHHH ur speaking my language you really are !!! i loveeee dressy lesbians and i love fashion and i love being a general nuisance to formal events so this ticks all my boxes.

2.6k. Teen. Cross-posted to AO3.

Max is used to running late for things.

Not because she's especially bad at time management, but because she usually can't be bothered to try and show up on time. Most events can't really start without her, and if they can, they're not really events she wants to be attending anyway. She likes the FIA Prize Giving Ceremony, sure, but that comes with the condition of her winning. If Max wasn't winning, and therefore the one being given a prize, Max would've much rather ditched. So, Max waits until the last second because she can, takes her time on the roads because she can, and shows up about three to fifteen minutes later than her team ever wants her to, give or take.

Max is used to running late for everything, save for races. This, of course, is always on purpose, and is always a statement. Max, frankly, would love to run late to the 2025 Prize Giving Ceremony, because she won, sure, but the FIA had been a pain in everyone's ass this year, especially her own, and she would've liked to stick it to them a bit.

Unfortunately, Max is taking Liam as a date this year. Which is unfortunate purely because Liam cares so much about being on time, and Max cares about Liam so much that she’s not even angry that her plans for revenge are being spoiled. It’s honestly kind of gross, because Max isn’t even grossed out at herself for it. It’s like having a crush all over again, like being those teenagers in the movies Max had made fun of. She trails after Liam like a puppy, lets Liam drag her to events on time and lets Liam make her seem domesticated and kind and non-threatening in the media. She lets Liam dress her up. It’s disgusting, and Max likes it so much.

Max is not used to dressing up. She hated frills and sequins and tulle as a child, found it uncomfortable and itchy, and when her dad put her in karting, there wasn’t a place for it. Her mom used to put her in beautiful clothing, not feminine but high quality, cashmere sweaters and child-fitted denim and sweet little sneakers. These things would get ruined at the track, so Max never took them, and so Max began to live in her hoodies and tees and whatever jeans fit well enough. It’s not like her father was particularly fashionable, and Red Bull never required more than the rare formal suit from her. They would’ve preferred a dress, obviously, but Max told them to fuck themselves and wore a suit, and just keep wearing that suit.

Liam —obviously, with her vintage and her curated wardrobes of shoes and denim and designer, with her personal stylist and personal nail artist— takes Max a bit out of her shell fashion-wise. Nothing crazy, but nicer sneakers, more designed and graphic and adventurous tees. She finds Max jeans that fit nicely, jeans with red and gold embroidery along the pockets and the hems. She pushes Max towards a haircut that isn’t fucked up pixie cut combined with little boy, asks her to maybe quit it with the hats on occasion.

Liam took one look at the three suits that Max had used in rotation since she started in Formula One and sighed. “I’m calling my stylist,” She had said, and left absolutely zero room for argument. Max wouldn’t have argued anyway. At this point in her career, she knows when she’s beat.

So, it is three hours before the ceremony, and Max is on her way to Liam’s apartment, which is really just Alex’s apartment, because Liam moved in with Alex as a test for if she actually wants to live in Monaco, but Alex isn’t home, with Lily or something, so it’s Liam’s apartment then. Max is getting ready three hours before the ceremony, which she usually waits until she has thirty  to fifteen minutes until she has to be there. It’s a strange feeling, especially because she is entirely underdressed, not even bringing the shoes that she’s going to wear because Liam insisted on getting everything for her. Max, once she gets there, tentatively pushes the door open, looking around for Liam.

“Liam?” Max calls out, standing awkwardly in the doorway, in just her sweatpants and a Red Bull tee, toeing her shoes off because Liam insists on it. 

“In here!” Liam calls out from the bathroom, and Max takes a few steps before Liam starts yelling again. “Wait, wait! Don’t come in, just... Go sit! On the bed!” Max turns to wander into Liam’s room, which was once the guest room. Liam’s taken it over though, with her racks of clothing and shelves of shoes and bags and hats and belts. Her bed is layered with thick comforters, plush and heavy, and Max sinks into it. She fiddles on her phone a bit, as Liam makes more noise in the bathroom. It takes her almost an hour before she’s rushing into the bedroom.

“Hello,” Liam heaves, and Max looks up and— Yeah, okay, whatever! Liam is beautiful. Which Max knew, obviously, since before they were half-dating, half-hooking-up, and fully teammates. But, sometimes, it still shocks Max, in the way that winning grand prixs and championships will never wear off in its joy. Liam’s hair is curling over her shoulders sweetly, the front pieces of her hair being pulled back into a circlet of braids, pinned in the back with golden pins in the shapes of wings. Her makeup is glittery and enchanting, an ombre of navy blue and deep red and gold shimmer, a red, glossy lip, and long lashes. She looks like a princess, even in a sports bra and boxers. She rushes past Max, trailing her fingers through Max’s hair as she passes, and Max just watches, her mouth a little dry and her head a little light.

“Hi,” Max replies, belatedly, but Liam doesn’t notice. She’s whipped open the doors to her closet, taking out two dry cleaning bags and tossing them next to Max on the bed. She digs further, and takes out two pairs of shoes, a lacy, guazy heel and a dark, almost pitch, blue loafer. She doesn’t throw these at Max, thankfully.

“What time is it?” Liam asks distractedly, and Max hums, checking her phone.

“Two hours early,” Max says, in lieu of an actual time, and Liam nods. 

“Good, then we have enough time to get dressed and get there and be twenty minutes early.” Liam says, and Max does not groan, but only because she likes Liam enough to not complain. She also understands that Liam has committed herself to doing the talking tonight, to the sponsors and the FIA and the other drivers, so all Max has to do is show up, look as non-bitchy as possible, accept her championship trophy for the fifth year in a row, and go home. Easy. Liam begins to put on her shoes, supporting her foot on the bed as she tucks her foot into the mesh-like material of the red shoe, embroidered and looking entirely unsupportive. Liam looks incredibly comfortable in them though, and Liam takes her boxers off, and pulls up the shapewear she forced Max to understand the other night. Then, and only then, does she unzip the dry cleaning bags, which Max awaits with bated breath.

It’s beautiful. Obviously. It’s pale and a little see-through and entirely more avant-garde than anything Max had seen at these events in a long time. It’s structured, corseted, with a beaded, beautiful heart on the bust, with strands of gold stretching out like the sun from it. 

“You would not believe,” Liam starts, slipping it out of the bag and stepping into it carefully, “the amount of effort it took to get this approved. I mean, honestly, the FIA should know my deal, at this point! But, no, they said it didn’t ‘count as black tie’” Liam scoffs, air quoting with one hand as the other holds up her dress in the front. She waves to Max to get up, gesturing at the laces in the back. Max heaves herself up and tightens as Liam continues to rant, half bent over the bed. “Which is such bullshit! They let men wear the same disgusting suits that barely count as tuxedos every year, and they let girls wear essentially American prom dresses every year, but I want something that goes a little above my ankle and it’s a no go! I got it, obviously, but truly, I think they have something out for me!” Max hums and nods at all the right intervals, before patting Liam on the back in a manner of saying it’s as tight as possible, I can do nothing more. Liam takes a deep breath, and thanks Max in an exhale. Max nods, kissing Liam’s shoulder before turning her around.

“How do I look?” Liam asks, breathlessly beautiful and enchanting. Her waist is tiny and her face is porcelain, and she looks delicate but also incredibly, wildly strong. Max wants to trap her in a birdcage. Max wants Liam to slam her into a wall.

“Like you are trying way too hard,” Max says, in lieu of any of that, because she has a reputation to upkeep. Liam laughs, a little smaller than usual because she can’t exactly inhale fully, but Max bathes in it anyway.

“Alright,” Liam says teasingly, “But it’s your turn now.” Max does groan this time, as Liam insists on Max shutting her eyes for the surprise of it all.

“You’re very lucky, Max,” Liam says, as she wrestles Max’s tee over her head, “You are very easy to make look polished, you just never try. Tom Ford and Gucci’s people are also much easier to deal with than Paulo’s, but I suppose that’s the issue with talking to bridal designers. So entitled, really.” Max doesn’t catch any of that, so she just hums, lifting her legs as Liam slips her sweatpants off and slips more dressy, structured pants on. Max nearly trips over her, but Liam just giggles and leads Max’s hands to her bare shoulders which, okay, Max can be normal about that. Liam guides Max’s arms through the sleeves of a button up, which she buttons over Max’s chest, and then into a vest, and then into a suit jacket. Max, subconsciously, feels over the fabric, and it’s soft. Nice. Comfortable.

“Okay,” Liam says softly, “Makeup might be a lot to ask of you, so we won’t be doing it. You can look...” She drags Max across the room, where Max knows a mirror is, “Now.”

Max opens her eyes. 

It’s a nice suit. Velvet, Max thinks. It’s a dark, dark blue, and it’s all velvet, including the vest. The only non-velvet, non-blue item, is a pale, creamy button up. Max looks nice. She looks dressy, stylish, but she doesn’t look feminine. It’s a good feeling. Liam nudges the shoes into Max’s feet, and Max slips into them fairly easily.

“It’s based on the 96 Fall/Winter show suit,” Liam says, to fill the silence, “But, I mean, obviously we couldn’t do red. We can’t feed the Ferrari rumors, after all, so Lenora asked for them to make it in blue, or at least direct us to something similar. They made it for us, though. Thank God for money and persuasive stylists, I guess.” Max nods, before realizing she should say something.

“I like it.” Max swallows, because she doesn’t quite know how to make it mean more. Liam seems to get it though, leaning to kiss Max’s neck. She leaves a bit of lip gloss, but neither of them move to wipe it off. They stare into the mirror for a bit, silently, but Liam blinks out of it eventually, moving her hand over Max’s throat. Max swallows.

“You need something here,” Liam says, and Max chokes down her natural response of your hand would be great, because, well— Time and place. Maybe later. Liam flutters to her jewelry, tossing a couple thick gold pieces at Max, vintage watches repurposed into necklaces. “Pick one of those,” Liam says absentmindedly, before she amends, “Pick a good one of those.” Max picks an entirely gold one, and Liam hums approvingly, as she piles her own hands with layers of gold rings, wrapping gold wire around her finger up to her wrist in a faux-bangle stack. Liam goes between two identical smelling perfumes, spends at least fifteen minutes choosing between four also identical red leather bags, and then throws on something that looks a bit like a fitted sheet and a comforter mixed together as a shawl/scarf/some-other-fucking-thing.

“You ready?” She asks Max, like she wasn’t the one taking hours. Max smiles.

“Course,” She says, and she means it, and they both rush out into the elevator and into the private garage, in an effort to not be seen before the runway. It’s fun, if an FIA event could ever be fun. Max supposes that Liam makes things fun.

formulafemme

[Photo of Liam Lawson and Max Verstappen arriving at the 2025 FIA Prize Giving Ceremony. Max has a pair of sunglasses pushing back her hair, and Liam is holding onto her arm a la a princess and her prince.]

OH IM GAGGED OHHHH IM GAGGEDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

#SOMEBODY SEDATE ME!!!!!!!!! #fashion #f1

dykestappen

[A video clip of Max Verstappen, in her velvet suit, being interviewed before entering the FIA Ceremony. The journalist asks her about the departure from her usual suit, and Max laughs and blushes, gesturing to Liam a few feet from her, saying: “Oh, it’s all her! Her and her stylist dressed me like I was a, er— doll, today. They had... a lot of fun, obviously, and so did I!” From off-camera, Liam says: “Oh, don’t forget to thank Tom Ford and Gucci! They made that custom!”]

i would like to thank liam lawson for giving us max in more than her normal ugly ass suits... doing the lords work for lesbians everywhere

#liam getting her butch lesbian a custom gucci suit ohhh i see u queen #god obsessed with them

lawsbian

[A photo of Liam and Max, tucked into each other on the runway, uncaring of cameras. They’re giggling, and Max is ducked down far into Liam’s personal space.]

I AM GOING TO KILL MYSELF THEY’RE SO BEAUTIFUL

#do they need a third #or a servant #or a dog #i will apply for any position available

lawstappen

[Video of Liam Lawson, speaking about Max’s outfit: “Oh, it was so fun! Me and Lenora, my stylist, had such a good time with it. I think she looks beautiful too, don’t you? No, don’t answer that, I get jealous. (She winks and laughs.) No, I’m joking obviously, she is very beautiful. I am glad she is wearing something that shows that. We got ready together and you could clearly see the change in confidence. I think good clothing changes people.]

#im not even going to comment on this #SHES CRAZY #her calling herself jealous... i know what u are

fashionarchive

[Four photos of Liam Lawson and Max Verstappen on the red carpet for the FIA Ceremony. They’re attached at the hip in every photo, with the last photo being Liam laughing, her head tucked into Max’s shoulder.]

Formula One athletes and married couple Liam Lawson and Max Verstappen on the red carpet for the 2025 FIA Prize Giving Ceremony. Liam Lawson in Paulo Sebastian A/W 2025, and Max Verstappen in custom Gucci, in the style of the 1996 Fall Collection red velvet suit.

wisconsingrandprix

theyre not married

fashionarchive

then why are they acting like that 😐

[crystalsenergy]

Navigating transit Saturn in Pisces: for Piscean natal placements (ASC to Jupiter)

It is important to know and firmly fix in your mind that Saturn is an energy, not a pure consciousness, and as energy, it is manipulated by ourselves, whether we use it for something constructive or negative.

Thus, if the Saturnian energy is used for maturation, the experience will be less burdensome. If your experience with Saturn in Pisces is unconscious, involving escapism, or guilt, with much weight placed upon yourself, Saturn's influence will seem harsh, heavy, hostile. It is us who act, we are the ones who hold the power and influence over our own lives, not simply "the universe."

Some observations for aspects/manifestations of Saturn in your personality at this moment:

Saturn touching, in conjunction...

...Ascendant in Pisces:

a strong moment that will bring various situations regarding yourself. Situations where you may have a more rigid self-view, or others may demand a closed-off stance from you or appear very harsh regarding how you (should) present yourself. Regardless of who you are, Saturn touching Pisces on the Ascendant aims to bring maturity to your personality, making you a Master in the art of what comes in and goes out, of what affects you and what shouldn't.

We say this because the Ascendant in Pisces is like a parabolic antenna constantly in connection and reception with the universe - the universe in the sense of everything that comes into contact with the person.

That being said, it is important for the individual to separate the wheat from the chaff in their life, what nourishes and what drains, what elevates and what reduces vital energy, vibration. It is important for the individual to build maturity regarding the energetic exchanges they engage in and their own functioning. An intuitive being who does not know this side of themselves becomes a slave to their exterior, and therefore, Saturn ends up seeming too harsh, bringing you back to earth, making things heavy.

However, we can look at this moment and ask ourselves: how did I act before everything seemed so harsh in my relationships and exchanges with the world? How is my relationship with myself? Did I pay attention, intuitively but also wisely, to what I felt when I saw and was close to X person, Y environment? How much do I control my own mind?

These are interesting questions that can guide you to a path of greater clarification regarding the somewhat harsh energies that may seem to be surrounding you. It is also important not to punish yourself too much for past mistakes, as guilt is one of the lowest frequencies that exist (the Hawkins Scale demonstrates this very well) and brings self-criticism and a weight that seems to burden us for a long time.

We need to understand, as I have already said, that Saturn is energy, not pure consciousness, and as energy, it is manipulated by ourselves, whether we use it for something constructive or negative. Thus, in an influence like this, if you use Saturn's energy to blame yourself for past "failures," the process will indeed become heavier, and the planet will not be the "guilty" one.

...Sun in Pisces:

Doubts may arise regarding your individuality. Sensitivity may be heightened, quite evident. You may feel something that "hits" very intensely, causing doubt and self-criticism about who you have been. As Saturn and Pisces don't converse so well, the Piscean Saturnian lessons come in a harsh, austere language, where it may seem like the problem lies within, when in reality the issue is how much Piscean vibrations have been integrated into life - especially the life around you (society). The lack of Piscean energy and the integration of what Pisces represents in collective life brings us this feeling of emptiness and that there is no space for our existence here. But of course there is!

...Moon in Pisces:

Here, Saturn's harshness over Pisces touches on internal and emotional issues.

Internally, you may be very rigid, not quite understanding your emotional demands. You may feel a need to emotionally respond to life, to yourself, and to emotional matters in a rigid, closed-off, overly practical manner. But that's not the best way of dealing with Saturn.

With Pisces, Saturn brings us an earthly energy that is put on the table in a practical way, but the things brought to the table for us to face are immaterial, psychic, abstract. Therefore, even in aspect with the Moon, we see a possible emotional difficulty in navigating Piscean matters without a feeling of self-censorship.

The advice for those with the Moon in Pisces is to try to navigate Saturn's need for closure with wisdom, seeking emotional maturity and improvement, seeking to structure their internal lives rather than falling into the traps of avoiding the unconscious and emotional issues, thus ending up building more debts with oneself.

...Mercury in Pisces:

Mercury in Pisces in the natal chart represents much of the search for what the environment and people around us have to say. Even if you don't realize it, a person with this placement has immense ease in reading the environments and the people around them. When Saturn touches this aspect of your personality, it brings the importance of grounding what you read from others.

Because it has an energy of seeking utility and practicality, Saturn tries to tell us that all the sensitivity felt by the mind, which by the way, is not easy to handle (Mercury in Pisces is an exiled position), can indeed be very useful and practical.

However, because it is a language that Mercury in Pisces is not very accustomed to - it is more abstract, intuitive, and indirect - it can be a bit challenging to understand what to do and, ultimately, that you are being led to do something with all the intuition felt.

An example of practical action for a highly intuitive Mercury in Pisces, impacted by others: noticing how much the energy of the environment dictates the energy of your day while you are there [and sometimes even after you leave the environment]. From there, you can take actions to avoid such an environment if it harms you and is possible, or start looking for ways to protect yourself so that only your energy remains with you.

...Venus in Pisces:

Venus in Pisces can be likened to a manifestation of sacrifices within relationships. It can also be seen, in some cases, as a reflection of a person who lives very much in their unconscious in relationships - reflecting fears and traumas in friendship and romantic choices. Yes, this can happen to anyone, but some people bring certain patterns more strongly with them because they live in constant contact with their unconscious, but not in a present manner. Venus in Pisces can have various facets, be beneficial or detrimental, as everything will always depend on the individual and their level of self-awareness and consciousness.

Either way, I see that when Venus meets with Saturn, both in Pisces, they bring a search for relationships that reflect your unconscious in a conscious manner (it sounds ambiguous, doesn't it? but it is very possible to look at what our unconscious brings us in a clear and present manner, that is, conscious of what affects us).

This importance of seeking clearer relationships and less "unconscious" ones will appear in different ways, depending on each being, chart, and life story. But I see that relationships will certainly require more concrete actions and less distance from each individual's consciousness, thus it may shake up the relationship area a bit, whether romantic or friendly, as it will bring you back to earth until you develop an awareness that you are rich in contact with your unconscious mind. However, the contact needs to be wise and transformative.

...Mars in Pisces:

Saturn with Mars can signify the limitation of Piscean energy, the limitation of Mars energy that would come through actions and reactions. However, it can also signify a moment of greater responsibility and maturity regarding how much your actions and reactions have been based on consciousness and something beneficial - to you and to those around you.

Saturn limits, makes things practical, complicates things a bit when we deal with him and Pisces together, for the reasons we've discussed before, but still, we see in this transit an immense potential to learn to act wisely with your own intuition and energy.

Learning to see, responsibly, your needs that were previously unconscious and starting to heal them or indeed attend to them, within what is important and healthy.

Mars is action, seeking self-satisfaction, independence, survival instinct, and reaction. When we see Mars in Pisces, we see unconscious instincts very much governing this being's life - be it the unconscious of others, our own, both... Saturn can be an important catalyst for changes and for using your intuition/energy/empathy in a wise and constructive way, instead of wasting it in any situation, person, or environment.

...Jupiter in Pisces:

Saturn brings to those with Jupiter in Pisces the importance of centering and focusing energies, having a healthy action, and not simply expressing empathy, the search for connection, and something immaterial without limits or consciousness.

Saturn represents focus, centering, materialization, and practicality. In this sense, it brings the energy that Jupiter needs to understand that not everything is just about experimenting and experiencing; we also need objectives, focuses, and a search for results. And that the value of things cannot only come from experience but also from analysis and organization.

Because when we plan and organize ourselves, we direct energy towards it and little by little, plans are built and succeed. In terms of what Jupiter in Pisces tends to deal with, Saturn will bring some "brakes," which may come in different ways. Brakes through difficulties, or through limitations.

An example: brakes on intuitive, energetic, or spiritual experiences (whether conscious or not), which may be done excessively or even without the native realizing they are doing them.

Brakes on how much you overly engage (Jupiter) with others' energies (Pisces). Saturn will bring the importance of reflecting before acting, of measuring where you are directing your immense empathy and giving, and at the same time, it will seek to bring you the energy to act and transform what you want to do, rather than at the first opportunity show what you have, without seeing if that is the right time.

Finally, in the case of beings with Jupiter in Pisces representing immense victimization, manipulation, or other more negative nuances, Saturn brings a certain harshness, unfortunately, because it is a way for the native to realize that this is not the best way to proceed with the strong energy of Jupiter in Pisces. This will happen in a movement of action and effect.

[cupcakewebkinz]

hiii some vee headcanons bc boredom got to me and made me think of this stupid robot(affectionate)and maybe I just want to info dump here sorry (also feel free to correct my terrible grammar since English is not my first language and im still learning lol)

First off, I like to think that since she has some trouble understanding people emotions and can come as blunt or something, she also has problems LYING like- I imagine her saying the most stupid lie and be like" he nailed it" and be super proud of herself because she thinks her lies are super believable. of course her lies wouldn't be something imposible ! she isn't dumb! but! I kinda think her lies would be "too normal for her to be truth". Shelly and Shanon know their dumb robot too well to understand how imposible it is that she was doing nothing.

I imagine vee to be a"really smart but also really stupid" kind of person(or toon in this case)

oh and she also has a fear of a random animal for no reason(maybe squirels or birds or something)

OH HELLO!! I WASN'T EXPECTING THIS!! THIS IS SO NEAT HIIIII!!! *waves*

ALSO I too love our stupid ass robot don't worry, I affectionately call her dumb too, because she IS dumb in some departments. More like uneducated and trying too hard, but it's funnier to say she's stupid affectionately.

She actually is cannonly very blunt though because she does struggle with understanding people - in my au, she still is a bit blunt with people but Shelly's been teaching her how to be better at expressing herself. Granted this does cause Vee to make some hilarious facial expressions as she learns, but they're just happy she's trying! In cannon though, I don't think she understands emotions one bit, I genuinely don't. This is why I feel like her asking Shelly to help her move things around and not recognizing how hurt she is by how blunt she is about it happens in their official dialogue, it's not because Vee's an asshole, she just didn't catch onto Shelly's emotions! God when people say she's purely a jerk I wanna strangle them... (Not literally)

That's also like, so real though. Vee would lie horribly, but I don't think she'd lie about anything major. She'd steal a sweater from Shelly and when she's asked about it, she'd absolutely say "it's in the laundry, I don't have it" right after Shelly finishes doing said laundry and Vee doesn't realize that. Or she'd like, lie about how she got stuck somewhere. "Oh I dropped a screw back here for my mic and I tried to get it" she'd say, when she got there because she had zoomies again and accidentally got herself stuck there. They both absolutely know she's lying, but they never go further than asking once about it, as she eventually comes clean about lying and apologizes for it. She loves them, of course she'll feel guilty about lying to them! They always forgive her because her lies are about such little things that don't matter, and Vee's always grateful they do.

Vee's incredibly smart fact wise, like if you asked her about a certain event in history, she'd tell you the correct details and everything. When it comes to people though, she's absolutely stupid, she has no idea how to exist with people. Emotions don't make sense, interacting with people doesn't make sense, small talk doesn't make sense. Hell I highly doubt gender doesn't even make sense to her, she'd just be like "uh yeah I am a woman because I was told that I was" when asked about her own gender and I find that pretty funny. She'd also lie about being a boy to some people just to fuck with them, she loves seeing people debate on what she is because it's chaotic and harmless. Shelly has to teach her how to be people smart... It's a work in progress... But she'll eventually not be stupid. Maybe.

I also see her being scared of birds, because they will poop on her and she doesn't want that to happen. She has to be clean... Except when she's literally coated in dust/sand/dirt from fossil hunting with Shelly. She'd also fear any animal she tries to interact with if she has one bad interaction with them... She really likes dogs though. I feel like they'd program her to like dogs because of service dogs, it would be horrible for any toons to fear service animals after all. Oh and Pebble, I forgot he was a dog for a second, she adores Pebble too. How am I that dumb? Sleep deprivation!! Yay!!! Remember to sleep... Please.

Now if you want a random animal she'd be scared of for absolutely no reason - starfish. Just trust me she'd be so uncomfortable with starfish she'd cry. For absolutely no reason. Nobody but Vee would ever understand...

[mpsansy]

Could you give me a full breakdown of their relationships (how each of them view the others, regrets, fears, insecurities, favorite memories from life and/or death with the other) to each other and Casper? :>

Oh, for sure! This may or may not be a big one. And perhaps one ask I go all over the place for. We'll see.

I'll start off by saying that the trio's relationship is a real unbreakable one. Even if they're worlds apart, the bond they got is real sturdy.

Stretch in Fatso & Stinkie's eyes have always been seen as the leader who can get his head in the game real quick. Can be a fun ghost or an all out brutal spirit that would look at you in the eyes as he shreds you to pieces.

Fatso in Stretch's and Stinkie's eyes is the entertainer. The showstopper who doesn't seem to get mad easily. Gonna have to be more than big words to take the fella down.

Lastly, Stinkie. In his brothers eyes, he's not such a dummy. I mean, they did think about him as that once, but with him reclaiming his memories that all flipped.

In conclusion, they do think greatly of each other. At least by a normal degree.

Additionally, they were raised to understand that a healthy brotherly bond will transcend any borders that could be made. In life and in death.

Their mother, of course, being the one who taught them this. She was always so smart and wise beyond her years.

And on that note, some of their favorite memories do involve their mother. Some would be cooking with her, playing with her, even learning a language that they're father couldn't understand at all.

All of them were clear mama's boys who wanted to make her proud. Not something they'd remember now as spirits, but regardless. It's important for me to say with my version of all them.

I've mentioned their regrets before [here], so I won't say it again. But fears? Hm, well I supposed they already had to live through them.

Fatso's fear turned reality-

Franklin dying in his wife's arms. Never getting a chance to see what beautiful children they had together. Unexpectedly becoming an absent father to his twins, not by choice. One can only hope his daughter Eleanor and son Florence understood that about their father.

Stinkie's fear turned reality-

Silvester losing all his mobility and feeling his throat close up from the poison that took him. That wasn't the worst part. The worst part was that he was all alone throughout the whole situation. He didn't have anyone to hold him just as he took his final painful breaths.

And finally Stretch's fear turned reality-

Simon. He saw a woman who he cherished with all his heart slit her throat in front of him. All in a desperate attempt to breathe, as blood began to spill straight down to the ground.

But wait, it gets worse for him.

Now he had a boy. A boy who he had every right to call HIS SON fall to his death meeting the ocean below.

Yes, it could've been worse like Casper's body being claimed by the ocean. But that pain of feeling that boy's body be completely cold and limp? Flesh from his head shredded and part of his skull exposed??

Simon honestly didn't even care how mangled & cold Casper was, that man held that boy so tight. Letting out the most gruesome scream that made every person stand in pure silence.

A scream of a parent losing a child. If you've ever had the displeasure of hearing it like I have, it yanks at your entire being.

Him slowly losing everyone he loved with all his soul was a fear that came true.

Extra bit:

I can't say exactly how different they'd think of Casper on an individual level (mostly bc this ask is too damn big to add on), but I know altogether the ghostly trio see Casper as this child who holds great potential.

Although he's kind in nature, the passion the child has for protecting the only family he's ever known as spirits that he'd resort to violence? All in the name of protecting them, defending them??

It makes them feel so guilty for tormenting this kid for as long as they did. And the things they did, what they said ro him? They can't take them back.

All they can do is apologize. Sure hope they try to be calm and collected about it. Wouldn't want to choke on the words they need to tell their beloved nephew.

Casper's best memory is of him cuddling up to his mother and presumed father at the time, Simon. How he could remember that memory is odd because he was barely three, but it was so happy for him. He felt wrapped up in love & warmth. Protected by the world he'd soon know to be harsh and brutal beyond comprehensible thought. But in this very moment? He didn't need to worry about all that.

Casper was with his mom and dad. Forever loved and cradled in their loving arms.

Casper's worst fear was just ending up alone. Abandoned by everyone and seen as a failure. Shares part of that fear with his mother and if he had to experience that as a ghost? He'd lose it.

Off that, they don't have any insecurities. Or at least none that I can think of right off the bat.

[twinklingwatermellon]

If you could write/direct a kdrama, you decide cast and plot, what would it be?

omg this is such a good question!!! and I actually have thought about this.

(I mean, my first choice would kinda be a screen adaptation of Hardwick House, but I don’t know if that would particularly work as a kdrama because it’s set in London and language-wise, it’s kind of a 50/50 split between Korean and English (with just a pinch of Chinese in some flashbacks). I also don’t have much of a cast for it because I’d need a British Korean guy to play Henry and you don’t actually see many British Korean actors (the closest I came, when I had to choose a cast for my film class finals, was Will Gao, but he’s British-Chinese), but I’d love it if Shin Eun-soo played Seon-hwa, and also as a purely self-indulgent little thing, for Choi Hyunwook to play her late husband in the flashbacks.)

Anyway! The real answer is, I’d want Park Eunbin and Kim Seonho as the leads in a historical series set in Korea and Japan in the last months of WW2. This is kind of out of character for me because I’m so much a romcom girlie, but the idea compels me.

I do love medical dramas, so Eunbin would play a nurse with no family left except her younger sister, who’s trying to focus on laying low, surviving, and helping as many people as she can but especially protecting her sister, and Seonho would play a doctor who’s also secretly working for the resistance against the Japanese. They’d fall into an easy companionship after meeting by chance and eventually fall in love and fight to stay alive together despite the awful times they’re living in. They’d both definitely be in mortal peril a few times and have to run to rescue each other.

The second ML is a Japanese soldier that offered himself as a spy for the Korean resistance but returns from the front severely wounded and is eventually hidden, albeit reluctantly, by Eunbin and Seonho. He and the FL’s younger sister go on to form a bond that is never quite identified within canon as romantic but is also just a little too close and fond.

I don’t know who would play the soldier because I don’t know enough Japanese actors, but the younger sister is played by Seo Ji-hye (from MPS, not from CLOY).

I’d need to do more research for exactly what else they go through, but the story ends with them surviving the war (though of course, everything has changed), getting married, and moving somewhere rural in Korea to try and carve out a moderately peaceful life.

[agustdef]

Right Now

Pairing: Kim Yugyeom x Black!Reader

Genre: Angst, Light Fluff, Idol AU/Idolverse

Word Count: 1.4k

Warning: One cuss word; Language; Mentions of lack of eating, but due to workaholic behavior.

Rating: PG-13

Author's Note: I wrote this forever ago and never posted it, which makes no sense. ​

One thing that fans and choreographers had in common was that tour season was a whirlwind experience that came at you fast and had you begging it to slow down. Though to be honest Hana didn’t really beg for it to slow down, she went wherever it took her and that meant more work than all of the “off season” combined. Something she didn’t mind and to a degree could admit to loving.

And that is where the problem arose.

Yugyeom had his own tour dates to prepare for. Events that were some of his first since GOT7 left JYPE. They made him more anxious than when he had his members to rely on, so he put in more work than usual. But none of it was overworking himself or not taking the time to breathe.

With his new career within the R&B world he’d promised himself he’d take a little more control and do what worked best for him and the life he wanted to lead, even outside of music. It was a must, and it was hard because he was used to the go, go, go lifestyle of idol life, but he wanted to take his time. He had all the time in the world for the fast paced, always moving shit when GOT7 got deep into preparations for their July comeback - something he looked forward to.

But while he waited and geared up for his solo activities, he tried to impart some of that wisdom onto Hana. That meant talking to her about it and getting her to take breaks no matter how small and no matter what hops he had to jump through to get her to give in.

Of course, she had obligations so she couldn’t just ditch jobs. It would make people second guess hiring her or get her blacklisted from working with companies if she changed up on them at the last minute. But the problem wasn’t how many choreographing and teaching roles she took on, or at least not the one Yugyeom felt he could validly argue against. No, the issue was that she was also helping out other friends. She would workshop choreo, act as a member for demos, help them get into different companies to showcase they were the right fit for their artists, and even teaching classes with them when they asked at the last minute.

It left her with so little time to do anything else. Yugyeom feared if she was eating like she should have or getting enough rest in her own bed, because she hadn’t entered his in weeks.

The worry he felt was low at the start of the season, but peaked once some artists began to make their way out a bit earlier than the rest. There were so many last-minute details and intensive work to put in. He barely got a text out of her or anyone he could usually reach out to get ahold of her. 

Even popping up wherever she told him yielded low results with him hoping the intimidating nature of being some of her clients' elder age and industry time wise would be enough to ensure they got her to eat or drink something when he dropped it off.

After a while it went from pure worry to agitation. Something that made him lie in bed at night staring at the ceiling as he thought about it until he picked up his phone.

Yugyeom: You at home?

Minutes ticked by with him staring at the screen awaiting an answer, to the point that he found himself a little pissed off and ready to call her, but before he could his phone buzzed a few times.

Hana: No, in the studio

Hana: I had to finalize that killing part for P1Harmony’s new comeback

Hana: I thought I told you???

Yugyeom’s anger didn’t subside despite her answering him, in fact her words seemed to just maintain how upset he was.

Yugyeom: You said it didn’t need to be done for two weeks. Did they push it up?

Hana: No

Yugyeom: So, you’re finishing it at 2AM 2 weeks early because….?

Hana: Because I want it done

Hana: Not rocket science. I got the time so might as well

There were many times in life that Yugyeom wanted to cuss someone out or simply scream and that was indeed one of them. It was like she didn’t know how she sounded, but he knew better than that. Hana knew exactly what she was doing and what he was calling her out on, but she wouldn’t cop to it. No, she preferred to do the thing where she played dumb until he said it outright and even then, she would deny, deny, deny.

It took several deep breaths to get him to calm down and respond to her.

Yugyeom: Come here and I’ll help you

Hana: I’m not falling for your tricks to see me. I’ll see you in a few days

Yugyeom: For work

Hana: And dinner after

He was going to push the issue, but just as began to type another message came through.

Hana: Gotta go. Ireh is back and we’re starting up. Go to sleep. Love you!

Naturally, he knew that she wouldn’t respond to him after that, so Yugyeom threw his phone across the bed. Or he tried to, but the slight force behind it made it bounce and hit the floor instead. He winced hearing it but made zero move to pick it up. All his focus was on Hana. The woman who drove him up the wall but who he loved endlessly. 

The thing was he got it. There was no one more understanding than Yugyeom because he lived the life of someone whose work needed a lot of his energy and time spent with people like Monster Woo and other dancers showed him how much went into what they did. How much it could strain things. But all he saw was Hana running herself into the ground for no reason.

Of course, he had to admit part of it was for selfish reasons on his part. He wanted more time with her, even if it was a quick meal and falling asleep together. Spending quality time is something he loved to do with her, and he’d missed out on for months. However, the much larger reason was because he knew her and knew she was in her own head. Knew that a lot of the pressure to work, work, work stemmed from her need to keep herself relevant and employed in an industry that could truly break a foreigner, especially a Black one. She’d made a name for herself long ago and had the backing in the US, but working mostly in K-Pop was something new and she hated to fail at such a challenge.

That was the thing that kept him from losing his shit with her, but it was also the straw to break the camel's back. There was nothing left in him that said he should continue to let it slide, to not push harder for her to take a step or two back. Lines like telling her friends and colleagues to not reach out were ones he wouldn’t cross, but as he drifted off that night, he’d decided that he would put his foot down. 

###

Days went by with Yugyeom not reaching out to Hana after their last text conversation. She wasn’t surprised that he’d stopped talking; he had two comebacks and tour dates to prepare for. Not that that was the reason he’d cut off communication attempts. Hana was smart enough to know he was worried and probably pissed with her. Something she hated but knew she couldn’t control since she had things to get done and not a lot of time to do them.

Tour season meant a lot of work and she was no stranger to pouring a lot of herself into it, so she rolled with the punches without much complaint. Which didn’t make him happy with her, but she knew it was something she could manage. Something she could explain to him to get him to understand.

Talking to him was in that plan once she arrived at the dance studio that he was preparing for his tour in. She was a choreographer for some songs and might go with him. Though with all the opportunities that rolled her way it looked unlikely that she would. 

Another thing he would be upset with her about.

Upon her arrival she assaulted with the smell of food. As she walked further into the building those smells intensified and she basically drowned in them as she entered the break room area that the studio housed. 

Everyone sat or leaned against something eating and paying her no mind. It was confusing because she thought they’d agreed to have lunch before coming in, but things had seemingly changed. All without her being in the know, something that she could have brushed off as an over thought if not for the momentary eye contact, she made with Yugyeom as he got up to grab a drink. His expression was blank as he looked at her and before she could blink, he turned around and went back to his seat without a word.

It was clear he was icing her out, which made her upset and a little angry. Not that she had time to process or call him on it, because the moment he sat down people noticed her presence and Ireh popped up and ushered her to the table she was sat at.

“We’re going to start a little later, so get comfortable. I’ll grab you something,” Ireh said.

Hana opened her mouth to tell her she was fine, but then her stomach growled, and she became all too aware of her hunger. She’d had a late night and got to sleep even later. So, in order to get the bare minimum of enough rest she’d slept in longer than she would have preferred and grabbed a pastry from the convenience store on the way. She’d planned to eat another snack before they started because she needed to and because eating a lot before dancing wasn’t something that she loved. But if she was hungry enough for her stomach to make sounds, she knew that she needed to eat something more. Plus, she had more time than she thought.

Another thing that wasn’t shared with her.

That made her irritation spike, so as she shrugged off her hoodie and dropped her bag Hana found her gaze drifting to Yugyeom. He was carefully spooning rice into his mouth as he messed around on his phone, only looking up when someone spoke to him and making sure to never even turn his head in her direction.

His behavior wasn’t something Hana never experienced before, she’d endured the silent treatment a few times before and it sucked every time. However, when it was about something that was work related and part of her livelihood it pissed her off. Even if there was a whisper in her head voicing the reminder that she could slow down some and not push herself so hard. That she had enough jobs for the season and could chill the hell out. The voice was right, but she wasn’t one to acknowledge that when she knew she could keep pushing and be fine.

So, being upset with him would withstand. At least that was what she tried to convey by glaring at a man who refused to give her the time of day.

Before she could do anything drastic, like walk over to his table, Ireh returned with two containers and a bottle of water. Hana took them carefully and was surprised to find kimchi-jjigae inside one. It was the typical food delivered for a work lunch, but it was a favorite of hers and something she craved whenever she worked a lot. 

Something Ireh knew.

Once Ireh took a seat and began eating again Hana opened her mouth to thank her, but the woman shook her head.

“I barely even knew we were getting lunch today. You know who picked it out.”

“But he…”

“Hana, you know better,” Ireh said, but in Korean that time.

Though she often spoke both when talking to Hana there was something about the way she switched to it in order to scold that made Hana shrink into herself a little. It wasn’t that her feelings were hurt, but she did know better. Plus, Ireh was the oldest of four children, so she had the older sister act down pact, even if she only had less than a year over Hana in age.

Hana sighed. “I know.”

“If you know, then act like it.”

From there they ate in silence. The food was delicious, so Hana had zero problem finishing it and even after she was done the usual fullness never came. Which made her curse herself for clearly not eating enough especially because it wasn’t her intention, she just got easily wrapped up in things and forgot.

Once everyone finished, they cleaned up, and there were several minutes of sitting before everyone moved into the practice room. Hana brought up the rear and went to close the door behind them but was cut off by Yugyeom slipping into the room. He handed her a sports drink and continued to walk past her.

Or tried to but was stopped when Hana grabbed hold of his wrist.

“Yugyeom,” she whispered.

At first, she thought he would pull away, but after a few seconds he turned to her with an expression much gentler than the one he’d greeted her with.

“Yeah?”

“You don’t have to…”

“I don’t have to do a lot of things, baby. But I do them because I want to and because sometimes people neglect to get them done.”

Not another word was said as he walked away, mostly because Hana couldn’t find any to say. There was the care behind his actions in those words, but she couldn’t miss the dig at the end. She knew it wasn’t meant to be all that hurtful, but she also knew he was being a little mean on purpose. Something that he wasn’t often, and she was unsure if she was angry, hurt, or simply upset that they’d reached that point.

In order to not have to figure that out she took a breath and stood off to the side while the head choreographer and tour manager spoke to them. When all information was disseminated they got to work going over the choreo with those who’d created it. Though the songs she’d worked on were early in the set list she went last and the entire time she refused to meet Yugyeom’s eyes.

Despite the tension they worked through the moves easily and corrected anything that seemed off. It was hyper professional between them and to a degree that made her feel worse, but the alternative of letting feelings leak through wasn’t any better.

After an hour and a half of going through everything they took a small break and Yugyeom tossed her a protein bar before taking a seat on the floor to catch his breath. The urge to say something flared, but Hana just took a seat and ate the bar without question.

Twenty minutes later they were back into the groove of things, but instead of checking for issues they decided to tackle the set list as it was. Most of the people he’d worked with weren’t coming with him, so it was the dancers with him while everyone else watched carefully.

Part of Hana wanted to sit it out because she may not have been going, but also because she was in a petty mood. The more time she and Yugyeom spent with negative emotions looming over them the more annoyed she got, and it was hard to push it down or reason with herself. But instead of taking that step back she got into position.

Keeping her mind from wandering wasn’t hard when she was dancing. It was her passion, so Hana always found joy in doing it. Especially because she’d been so happy when Yugyeom asked her to work on some of the choreo for him. She’d done so on some of GOT7’s music but working closely with the man she loved when he held the same passion as her put her over the moon. A feeling that found its way into her as she danced alongside him.

Their run through went off without a hitch and they were able to do it with very few breaks. Once it was finished, they all took a moment to catch their breath and then any issues were pointed out before they did it again. The second time around included moments where he would stop to talk or to head backstage for a bit, so it was less taxing and also showed there was a better flow of things.

Usually that would have been the end of it, but it was decided on one more run through. Yugyeom had been singing the other two times so to preserve his voice they just let the track play and he lip synced the lyrics. During that practice he found his flow in a way that wasn’t present before and interacted with the dancers more. Hana effortlessly played off that and more often than before they ended up close together dancing in a way that wasn’t so scandalous that they looked like they were five seconds from fucking, but enough to fit the vibe and the sexiness of some of the songs.

With the last song, Hana found they stared into each other’s eyes more than they had most of the day and so it took a moment to snap out of it and walk away once the music stopped. They managed to do so and keep to themselves as they listened to the tour manager again. Everyone was happy with the practice so it ended and though Hana knew most of them liked to leave quickly the speed in which everyone got out of there was next level.

In about two minutes only she and Yugyeom were left, and he was at the door with his hand held out to her. Again, the urge to be petty arose in her, but she’d gone a long time without any physical touch from him that wasn’t dance related and she craved it. So, after she grabbed her bag, she walked forward and laced her fingers in his.

Neither spoke as he led them out of the studio and to the car that he’d hired to drive them around. As they sat in silence, they continued to hold hands and didn’t stop until Yugyeom motioned her into the restaurant they’d planned to go to for dinner. The host led them to a private room and to Hana’s surprise JayB and Youngjae were already there. Both men were often late to dinners.

“Did you even shower?” Youngjae asked as he got up to hug them.

Hana rolled her eyes. “No time.”

“At least she’s not as stinky as him,” Jaebeom said as they switched, and he hugged her.

“Hyung,” Yugyeom whined.

That got a laugh out of everyone and that meant a pouting Yugyeom as they took their seats. A server appeared the moment their butts touched down and they ordered and awaited the drinks.

“So how did it go?” Jaebeom asked.

“It went well. Most of it was already ready, so from here on out it’s just correcting any problems and making sure that we’re one hundred percent happy with how the set list flows,” Yugyeom said.

“That’s good. I know it can be nerve wrecking to do the first solo show, plus it’s in person. Making sure it’s just right means you’ll do great,” Jaebeom said.

“I hope so.”

“Ah, our baby is nervous,” Youngjae teased.

More pouting ensued as they all laughed and Jaebeom reached over to pinch his cheek, earning a light slap to the hand which only made them laugh harder.

It took a few minutes before they settled and their drinks arrived in that time. In the restaurant they went to drinks were fast, but food was slow because they prided themselves in being made to order so most of the food was unprepped.

“Speaking of preparing, how is all the tour stuff going with the different artists, Hana?” Youngjae asked.

Something about the question excited her, but also felt heavy. As if she was beyond tired.

“Good. I thank the heavens that most have been doing online concerts and don’t have a lot of new music coming before tour. It makes it so that we’re mostly just going over things and learning a handful of new choreo. Most pick it up fast, but some of the rookies are so new to it that their nerves are making it harder for them to keep up. But I enjoy being able to help them through it.”

Jaebeom nodded. “I don’t know how you do it. Dance has been in my life a long time and b-boying could take a lot out of you, so I can’t imagine doing it as much as you do. Hell, as much as either of you do. And Gyeomie finds time to do it for fun.”

Hana glanced at Yugyeom, who’d gotten quiet, before saying anything.

“Yeah, it can be a lot, but you get used to it.”

“I just hope you’re taking care of yourself.”

Before Jaebeom finished his sentence Yugyeom scoffed, but Hana ignored it.

“I’m doing my best,” she said.

Another noise was heard but it was softer than the last in a way that Hana almost missed it. What she didn’t miss was the way that Yugyeom rolled his eyes.

If it was anyone else besides his members in that room she would have been embarrassed, but they knew how he could get and saw both of them at their worst. There was nothing they would judge them for or at least all judgment would come from a place of friendship and not rudeness.

Regardless of that it annoyed her, and she wanted to ask him about it, but instead took a deep breath and a sip of her drink. 

Seconds ticked by in silence before Youngjae broke the tension or tried to break it, because it didn’t let up even a little.

“So, you ready to go on tour with him? I know you haven’t done one in a few years, and you said you miss it.”

Anger gave way to discomfort then, and Hana paused for way too long.

“Uh… yeah. Some things have come up and so I might not get the chance to do it. But I am looking forward to it.”

“You might not go?” Yugyeom asked, shock and anger coloring his words.

“Yeah, I was going to tell you…”

“When?”

“After dinner. I thought we could talk then.”

Yugyeom’s face was stoic, and it was clear he fought to keep it and not allow anything else to color his expression as he looked at her. For several seconds all he did was stare, before he turned his head to look across the table.

“Hyungs,” he said, voice shaky.

Neither of them said anything, just nodded and got up. As they exited Hana heard Jaebeom mention sitting at the bar to give them a moment to themselves, but she was more focused on Yugyeom who’d risen from his seat and began to pace the room.

“Yugyeom,” she said softly.

Hearing his name didn’t stop his pacing or even get him to look in her direction.

“Yugyeom.”

Again nothing.

“Kim Yugyeom.”

That time there was a bit of anger in her voice, and she didn’t know if that did the trick or the use of his full name, but he finally stopped pacing and turned to her. She watched as he visibly took a deep breath and then leaned against the wall behind him.

“Do you know how worried I’ve been?” he asked.

Hana sighed. “I kn…”

“That was rhetorical. You know how worried I’ve been. You’ve had me checking in on you over the phone. Bringing you food and getting you to take moments to rest. You’ve seen my hold back because I know how you work, and I know it can be intense. I know that you do things a certain way and while it may seem like too much to be doing to me that you view it a different way. I know this industry is iffy and you committing to working mostly for this country’s industry is a lot because of the extra bs that comes with you not being Korean. I let shit slide because of those things. I put aside my worries because of those things, because I’m trying to be understanding. But there are limits.

“You push and push until you push me away. You’ve barely spoken to me for more than an hour in total over the last month. I have to work harder than one should to get proof you’re okay. To make sure that you’re eating and drinking. To ensure that you’re getting the rest that you need. And you don’t give a fuck.”

Throughout his speech Hana felt guilt creep in, but something about that last sentence shoved it down.

“I don’t care? How are you going to sit here and tell me that I don’t care? As if I haven’t been doing my best to keep in contact and as if I don’t always thank you for the things you do to take care of me. I’ve been busy, Yugyeom. You know how much comes up during these months and how much busier I get as tour dates get closer.”

“Fuck that busy shit!” he shouted.

That brought them to a standstill. Not because Hana felt threatened or anything, they cussed all the time so it slipping into an angry conversation didn’t faze her. But the way he raised his voice surprised her a little. It wasn’t scary, but it wasn’t like him to yell even though it had been softer than most people’s.

“Baby…” she trailed off.

Yugyeom’s face shifted from anger to a deep set frown and gentle eyes that told her he was tired and worried. Much more than he was letting on.

“I just… I want to take care of you, and I want you to take care of yourself. I get that you work hard, but you can work hard and also relax. Take moments to breathe. Have some sort of fun. You get into this work mode where it’s like you can’t seem to do anything else, even when there isn’t much else to do. And I get it, baby I do, but there has to be a line. 

“And I’m selfish. Outside of you being healthy I miss you. I’ve barely seen you for a month and it’s not like we haven’t crossed paths. I miss being able to spend time with you. Making up dances in the studio just because it’s fun, taking small trips for a day or two, you yelling at me because you hate the way that I cook, and just falling asleep by your side. I haven’t held you in forever.”

As he spoke Hana rose from her seat and moved over to Yugyeom, wrapping her arms around his waist before she pulled him close. She knew she’d not been thinking about herself much and just going with the fact that she felt fine as an indicator on if she needed a break. It worked for her, but it was a dangerous way to live and despite how much she hated to realize it, lack of eating alone was enough for her to know she wasn’t as well as she thought.

That coupled with the neglect of her relationship was a reality check of epic proportions. She’d expected Yugyeom to just go with her schedule without throwing him a bone in terms of even a little affection. Plus, there was the depriving of her own touch and time needs. All of it showed her that she’d been a mess masquerading as someone with their shit together for weeks.

“I know and I’m sorry. I got wrapped up in it all and forgot myself. But even so, I shouldn’t have forgotten your needs. Forgotten that I would have to put in the effort to fix things when I finally came down to reality and not just expected you to be understanding or that I could explain it away. You deserve better than that and I’m sorry I was giving you less than.”

Yugyeom wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tight against him. His body relaxed and so did hers. Not everything was solved, and it was something they would need time to get over, but Hana knew it was the start of a good thing and that she would do better. 

After a few moments Yugyeom moved away a bit and leaned down to press a kiss to her lips. It was gentle and came with a spark that made it feel like the first time. A testament to how long she’d been in self-imposed exile of his touch.

As he pulled away from her, she made the mental note to overhaul her planner to work better for herself and her relationship.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you more.”

Yet another pout took form and as his lips parted to argue the boys reentered the room with the server right behind them.

“Sorry,” Youngjae said.

Hana waved them off. “You’re fine. We’re good.”

“Really?” Jaebeom asked.

“Yes.”  

A squeeze of the hand was all she needed to be sure of it.

They enjoyed the meal without the heavy weight of tension in the room and despite how she needed to get across town the next morning Hana went with Yugyeom to his apartment without argument. She said she would do better and that needed to be immediate.

Plus, when she woke up a little later than she’d planned she couldn’t be mad, because being wrapped in his arms was the best night sleep she’d gotten in a while. She planned for it to be a repeat performance for at least a week straight.